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Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
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Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


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n 


D 


n 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagie 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  pelliculAe 


□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Letit 


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Tl 
to 


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Pages  damaged/ 
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I      I  Pages  damaged/ 

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I      I  Pages  detached/ 

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|~~|  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


D 


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Ce  document  est  tlim*  au  taux  de  reduction  indlqui  ci-deseout. 


Tl 

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si 
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si 
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n 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

>/ 

12X                           16X                           aOX                           a4X                           28X                           32X 

The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
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LjS  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
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premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
derniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbola  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  A  deo  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6.  il  est  film6  i  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cassaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithode. 


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LINNET 


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LINNET 


A 


R     0     M     A    N     C     E 


By      GRANT      ALLEN 

^«/Aor  0/ "UNDER     SEALED     ORDERS," 
"MISS    CAYLEY'S    ADVENTURES,"    ETC. 


/?T 


New  Tork 


BOOK     COMPANY 


NEW    AMSTERDAM 


MCM 


! 


26099$ 


Copyright,  1900,  by 
New  Amstbrdam  Book  Company 


i 

I 

1 

?         CH 


I 


NOTE 

This  story  was  written  in  the  midst  of  the  scenery 
which  it  describes ;  but  the  author  desires  to  acknowl- 
edge his  obligations  for  many  touches  of  local  color  to 
Mr.  Baillie-Grohman's  admirable  work  on  "Tyrol  and 
the  Tyrolese,"  The  quatrain  on  p.  283  is  quoted,  with 
some  slight  modifications  (to  adapt  it  to  its  place  in  thi* 
novel),  from  a  poem  by  Mr.  William  Watson. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

page 

I.  "  TO  INTRODUCE  MR.  FLORIAN  WOOD  "  . 

• 

7 

II.   A  FRESH  ACQUAINTANCE 

• 

• 

15 

III.   WITHIN  SIGHT  OF  A  HEROINE  . 

• 

• 

21 

IV.   ENTER  LINNET    . 

• 

• 

31 

V.   THE  WIRTH's  theory     . 

< 

38 

VI.    THE  ROBBLER 

• 

• 

44 

VII.    WAGER  OF  BATTLE 

* 

1 

52 

VIIL    THE    HUMAN    HEART      . 

6o 

IX.    THE   MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 

66 

X.    HAIL,   COLUMBIA! 

73 

XI.   PRIVATE   INQUIRY 

1 

82 

XII.   THE  MADDING  CROWD     . 

* 

» 

90 

XIII.    A  FIRST  NIGHT    . 

• 

.        98 

XIV.    AND  IF   FOR  EVER 

■ 

107 

XV.    A  CRITICAL  EVENING 

* 

» 

.      115 

XVI.    SCHLOSS  TYROL  . 

» 

122 

XVII.   CAUGHT  OUT 

• 

.      132 

XVIII.   TAKEN  BY  SURPRISE 

t 

• 

.      141 

XIX.    SPIRITUAL    WEAPONS      . 

1 

» 

.      148 

XX.   FLORIAN  ON  MATRIMONY 

• 

• 

.      156 

XXI.  fortune's    WHEEL 

► 

163 

XXIL    A  woman's  stratagem 

1 

» 

170 

XXIII.   A   PROPHET   indeed! 

• 

• 

.      178 

XXIV.   THE  ART  OF  PROPHESYING 

I 

.      189 

XXV,    A   DRAMATIC   VENTURE   . 

• 

• 

.      197 

XXVI.  A  woman's  heart 

• 

• 

.      203 

Contents 


CHAPTER 

XXVII.   AULD  LANG   SYNK 

XXVIII.   SIGNORA   CASALMONTE   . 

XXIX.    FROM    linnet's    STANDPOINT 

XXX.    AN    UNEXPLCTED  VISITOR 

XXXI.    WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 

XXXII.    WEDDED  FELICITY 

XXXin.    PLAYING    WITH    FIRR      . 

XXXIV.   AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 

XXXV.    c;OLUEN    HOPES    . 

XXXVI.    AN  ECCLESIASTICAL  QUESTION 

XXXVII.    BEGINNINGS    OF    EVIL      . 

XXXVIII.    HUSBAND    OR    LOVER?      . 

XXXIX.   DOCUMENTARY   EVIDENCE 

XL.    OPEN    WAR 

XLI.   god's   LAW — OR   MAN'S? 

XLII.    PRUDENCE 

xLiii.  linnet's  rival 

XLIV.    AND   will's 
XLV.   BY   AUTHORITY   . 
XLVJ.    home    AGAIN  !    . 
XLVII.    SEEMINGLY    UNCONNECTED 
XLVIII.    THE  BUBBLE.  BURSTS 
XLIX.  THE  PIGEON  FLIES  HOME 

L.    ANDREAS  HAUSBERGER   PAYS 
LI.   EXIT    FRANZ    LINDNER    . 
LII.   A  CONFESSION  OF  FAITH 


PAGE 
209 

217 

224 

233 
240 

248 

264 
272 

279 
287 
294 
300 

309 
3IS 
323 
329 
336 

343 
351 
359 
369 
378 
386 

392 
398 


LINNET 


CHAPTER  I. 


"  TO    INTRODUCE    MR.    FLORIAN    WOOD  " 


TwAS  at  Zell  in  the  Zillerthal. 

Nov.',  whoever  knows  the  Alps,  knows  the  Zillerthal  well 
as  the  center  of  all  that  is  most  Tyrolese  in  the  Tyrol. 
From  that  beautiful  green  valley,  softly  smiling  below, 
majestically  grand  and  ice-clad  in  its  upper  forks  and 
branches,  issue  forth  from  time  to  time  all  the  itinerant 
zither-players  and  picturesquely-clad  singers  who  pervade 
every  capital  and  every  spa  in  Europe.  Born  and  bred 
among  the  rich  lawns  of  their  upland  villages,  they  come 
down  in  due  time,  with  a  feather  in  their  hats  and  a  jodel 
in  their  throats,  true  modern  trouba'^  Durs,  setting  out  on 
the  untried  ocean  of  the  outer  world — their  voice  for  their 
fortune — in  search  of  wealth  and  adventures.  Guitar  on 
back  and  green  braces  on  shoulders,  they  start  blithely 
from  home  with  a  few  copper  kreuzers  in  their  leather 
belts,  and  return  again  after  a  year  or  two,  changed  men 
to  behold,  their  pockets  full  to  bursting  with  dollars  or 
louis  or  good  English  sovereigns. 

Not  that  you  must  expect  to  see  the  Tyrolese  peasant  of 
sober  reality  masquerading  about  in  that  extremely  operatic 
and  brigand-like  costume  in  the  upper  Zillerthal.  The 
Alpine  minstrel  in  the  sugar-loaf  hat,  much-gartered  as  to 
the  legs,  and  clad  in  a  Joseph's  coat  of  many  colors,  with 
whom  we  are  all  so  familiar  in  cosmopolitan  concert- 
halls,  has  donned  his  romantic  polychromatic  costume  as 
an  integral  part  of  the  business,  and  would  be  regarded 
witih  surprise,  not  unmixed  with  contempt,  were  he  to 
appear  in  it  among  the  pastures  of  his  native  valley.  The 
ladies  in  corset-bodices  and  loose  white  lawn  sleeves,  who 
trill  out  startling  notes  from  the  back  attics  of  their  larynx, 


!    ' 


8 


LINNET 


or  elicit  sweet  harmonies  from  mediaeval-looking  maiiJo- 
lins,  in  Kursaals  and  Alcazars,  have  purchased  their 
Tyrolese  dress  direct  from  some  Parisian  costumier.  The 
real  cowherds  and  milkmaids  of  the  actual  Zillerthal  are 
much  more  prosaic,  not  to  say  commonplace,  creatures.  A 
green  string  for  a  hat-hand,  with  a  blackcock's  plume  stuck 
jauntily  or  saucily  at  the  back  of  the  hat,  and  a  dirty  red 
lappel  to  the  threadbare  coat,  is  all  that  distinguishes  the 
Tyrolese  mountaineer  of  solid  fact  from  the  universal 
peasant  of  European  Christendom.  Indeed,  is  it  not  true, 
after  all,  that  the  stage  has  led  us  to  expect  far  too  much — 
in  costume  and  otherwise — fiom  the  tillers  of  the  soil  every- 
where? Is  it  not  true  that  the  agricultural  and  pastoral 
classes  all  the  world  over,  in  spite  of  Theocritus  and 
Thomas  Hardy,  are  apt,  when  one  observes  them  impar- 
tially in  the  flesh,  to  be  earthy,  grimy,  dull-eyed,  and  unin- 
telligent ? 

Florian  Wood  didn't  think  so,  however,  or  affected  not 
to  think  so — which  in  his  case  was  probably  very  much 
the  same  thing;  for  what  he  really  thought  about  any- 
thing on  earth,  affectation  aside,  it  would  have  puzzled  even 
himself  not  a  little  to  determine.  He  was  a  tiny  man  of 
elegant  proportions:  so  tiny,  so  elegant,  that  one  felt 
inclined  to  put  him  under  a  glass  case  and  stick  him  on  a 
mantlepiece.  He  leant  his  small  arms  upon  the  parapet 
of  a  wall  as  they  were  approaching  Zell,  shifted  the 
knapsack  on  his  back  with  sylph-like  grace  and  murmured 
ecstatically,  with  a  side  glance  at  the  stalwart  peasant- 
women  carrying  basketfuls  of  fodder  in  huge  creels  on 
their  backs  in  the  fields  close  by,  "  How  delicious !  How 
charming!  How  essentially  picturesque!  How  charac- 
teristically Tyrolean ! " 

His  companion  scanned  him  up  and  down  with  an  air 
of  some  passing  amusement.  "  Why,  I  didn't  know  you'd 
ever  been  in  the  Tyrol  before,"  he  objected,  bluntly.  And, 
in  point  of  fact,  when  they  started  together  from  Munich 
that  morning  on  their  autumn  tour,  Florian  Wood  had 
never  yet  crossed  the  Austrian  frontier.  But  what  of 
that?  He  had  got  out  of  the  train  some  five  hours  back 
at  Jenbach  station,  and  walked  the  sixteen  miles  from  there 
to  Zell ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  tramp  he  had  matured  his 
views  on  the  characteristics  of  the  Tyrol. 


"  TO  INTRODUCE  MR.  FLORIAN  WOOD  "  9 

But  he  waved  one  lily-white  hand  over  the  earth  none 
the  less  with  airy  dismissal  of  his  friend's  implied  criti- 
cism. "  How  often  shall  I  have  to  tell  you,  my  dear 
Deverill,"  he  said  blandly,  in  his  lofty  didactic  tone — the 
tone  which,  as  often  happens  with  very  small  men,  came 
most  familiarly  of  all  to  him — "  that  you  unduly  sub- 
ordinate the  ideal  to  the  real,  where  you  ought  rather  to 
subordinate  the  real  to  the  ideal.  This,  you  say,  is  the 
Tyrol — the  solid,  uncompromising  geographically  definite 
Tyrol  of  the  tax-gatherer,  the  postmaster,  and  the  com- 
mercial traveler — bounded  on  the  north  by  Bavaria,  on 
the  south  by  Italy,  on  the  east  by  the  rrde  Carinthian  boor, 
and  on  the  west  by  the  collection  of  hotels  and  pensions 
marked  down  on  the  map  as  the  Swiss  Republic.  Very 
well  then;  let  me  see  if  there's  anything  Tyrolese  at  all 
to  be  found  in  it.  I  have  instinctive  within  me  a  picture  of 
the  true,  the  ideal  Tyrol.  1  know  well  its  green  pastures,  its 
upland  slopes,  its  innocent  peasantry,  its  fearless  chamois- 
hunters,  its  beautiful,  guileless,  fair-haired  maidens.  Ar- 
riving by  rail  to-day  in  this  its  prosaic  prototype — cast  up, 
as  it  were,  from  the  train  on  the  sea-coast  of  this  Bohemia 
— I  turn  my  eyes  with  interest  upon  tlie  imitation  T\ro1 
of  real  life,  and  strive  earnestly  to  discover  some  faint 
points  of  resemblance,  if  such  there  be,  with  the  genuine 
article  as  immediately  revealed  to  me." 

"  And  you  find  none  ?  "  Deverill  put  in,  smiling. 

Florian  waved  that  dainty  Dresden  china  hand  ex- 
pansively once  more  over  the  landscape  before  him,  as  if 
it  belonged  to  him.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  sententiously ; 
"  in  many  things,  I  admit,  the  reality  might  be  improved 
upon.  The  mountains,  for  example,  should  be  higher, 
their  forms  more  varied,  their  peaks  more  jagged,  their 
sides  more  precipitous;  the  snow  should  drape  them  with 
more  uniform  white,  regardless  of  the  petty  restrictions 
of  gravity ;  the  river  should  tear  down  far  rockier  ravines, 
in  more  visible  cataracts.  But  Nature  has  sometimes  her 
happy  moments  too.  And  I  call  this  one  of  them! 
Those  women,  now,  so  Millet-like  in  their  patient  toil — 
how  sympathetic!  How  charming!  A  less  primitive 
society,  a  less  idyllic  folk,  would  have  imposed  such 
burdens  upon  a  horse  or  a  donkey.  The  Tyrol  knows 
better.    It  is  more  naive,  more  picturesque — in  one  word. 


10 


LINNET 


more  original.     It  imposes  them  on  the  willing  neck  of 
beautiful  woman ! " 

"  It's  terribly  hard  work  for  them,"  Deverill  answered, 
observing  them  with  half  a  sigh, 

"  For  them?  Ah,  yes,  I  admit  it,  of  course,  poor  souls! 
—but  for  me,  my  dear  fellow — for  me,  just  consider !  It 
gives  me  a  thrill  of  the  intensest  sensibility.  In  the  first 
place,  the  picture  is  a  beautiful  one  in  itself — the  figures, 
the  baskets,  the  frame,  the  setting.  In  the  second  place,  it 
suggests  to  the  observant  mind  an  Arcadian  life,  a  true 
Dorian  simplicity.  In  the  third  place — which  is  perhaps 
the  most  important  of  all — it  affords  me  an  opportunity 
for  the  luxury  of  sympathy.  What  is  the  trifling  incon- 
venience of  a  heavy  load  on  tlieir  backs  to  these  poor 
ignorant  creatures,  compared  with  tl:e  refined  and  artistic 
pleasure — of  an  altruistic  kind — which  I  derive  from  pity- 
ing them  ?  " 

"  Florian !  "  his  friend  said,  surveying  him  comically 
from  head  to  foot,  "  you  really  are  impayahle.  It's  no 
use  arguing  with  you ;  it  only  flatters  you.  You  know 
very  well  in  your  heart  you  never  mean  a  word  of  any- 
thing you  say ;  so  stop  your  nonsense  and  put  yourself  in 
marching  order  again.  Let's  get  on  to  Zell,  and  see  what 
sort  of  quarters  we  can  find  in  the  village." 

Florian  Wood  came  down  at  once  from  his  epicurean 
clouds,  and  strode  out  with  his  little  legs  in  the  direction 
of  their  resting-place.  In  spite  of  his  tininess,  he  was  a 
capital  walker.  If  Nature,  as  he  averred,  has  sometimes 
her  happy  moments,  she  certainly  had  one  when  she  cre- 
ated her  critic.  Florian  Wood  was  a  young  man  of  a 
delicate  habit  of  mind  and  body — a  just  and  pleasing  com- 
promise between  a  philosopher  and  a  butterfly.  His 
figure  was  small  but  extremely  graceful ;  his  limbs  were 
dainty  but  well-knit  and  gazelle-like;  his  face,  though 
small-featured,  was  very  intelligent,  and  distinctly  good- 
humored  ;  his  voice  was  melodious  and  exquisitely  modu- 
lated. And  what  Nature  had  left  undone,  his  godfathers 
and  godmothers  did  for  him  at  his  baptism  when  they 
chr'stened  him  Florian.  As  plain  John  Wood,  to  be  sure, 
he  would  have  been  nobody  at  all ;  as  William  or  Thomas 
or  Henry  or  George,  he  would  have  been  lost  in  the  multi- 
tudinous deep  sea  of  London.     But  his  parents  had  the 


"TO  INTRODUCE  MR.  FLORIAN  WOOD  "  ii 


glorious  inspiration  of  dubbing  him  Florian,  and  it  acted 
like  a  charm :  all  went  well  in  life  with  him.  A  baronetcy 
would  have  been  a  far  less  valuable  social  passport — for 
there  are  many  baronets,  but  only  one  Florian.  Before 
the  romantic  rarity  of  that  unique  Christian  name,  the 
need  for  a  surname  paled  and  faded  away  into  utter  noth- 
ingness. Nobody  ever  dreamt  of  calling  him  "  Wood  " : 
they  spoke  of  Florian  as  they  once  spoke  of  "  Randolph." 
On  this  somewhat  illogical  but  very  natural  ground,  he 
became  from  his  schooldays  upward  the  spoiled  child  of 
society.  He  was  a  toy — a  plaything.  Clubs  hung  on  his 
clear  voice ;  women  petted  and  made  much  of  him.  When 
you  talk  of  a  man  always  by  his  Christian  name  alone, 
depend  upon  it,  he  becomes  in  the  end  as  one  of  the 
family:  mere  association  of  ideas  begets  in  you  at  last  a 
friendly — nay,  almost  a  fraternal  feeling  towards  him. 

They  walked  aloig  briskly  in  the  direction  of  Zell, 
Florian  humming  as  he  went  a  few  stray  snatches  of 
Tyrolese  songs  (or  what  pass  in  the  world  for  such),  by 
way  of  putting  himself  in  emotional  harmony  with  the 
environment.  For  Florian  was  modern,  intensely  mod- 
ern. He  played  with  science  as  he  played  with  every- 
thing else;  and  he  could  talk  of  the  environment  by  the 
hour  with  the  best  of  them  in  his  airy  style,  as  if  environ- 
ments and  he  had  been  lifelong  companions.  But  Zell 
itself,  when  they  got  to  it,  failed  somehow  to  come  up  to 
either  of  their  expectations.  Florian  would  have  made 
the  valley  narrower,  or  transplanted  the  village  three 
hundred  feet  higher  up  the  slope  of  the  hill.  As  for  Will 
Deverill,  less  critical  of  Nature's  handicraft,  he  found  the 
inns  over-civilized;  the  Post  and  the  Brau  were  too  fine 
for  his  taste:  they  had  come  thus  far  in  search  of  sjlitude 
and  Alpine  wilds,  and  they  lighted  instead  on  a  sort  of 
miniature  Grindelwald,  with  half-a-dozen  inns,  a  respect- 
able cafe,  experienced  (or  in  other  words  extortionate) 
guides,  and  a  regular  tourist-trap  for  the  sale  of  chamois- 
horns  and  carved  models  of  chalets.  "  This  will  never 
do ! "  Will  Deverill  exclaimed,  gazing  around  him  in  dis- 
gust at  the  Greiderer  Hotel  and  the  comfortable  Welsch- 
wirth.    "  This  is  pure  civilization ! '' 

And  Florian.  looking  down  instinctively  at  his  dust- 
pncumbered  boots,  murmured  with  a  faint  sigh,  "  A  per- 


( 


m. 


12 


LINNET 


feet  Bond  Street ! "  For  Florian  loved  to  do  everything 
"  consummately," — 'twas  his  own  pet  adverb ;  he  aimed 
at  universality,  but  he  aimed  quite  as  much  at  perfection 
in  detail  of  the  most  Pharisaical  description.  In  Picca- 
dilly, he  went  clad  in  a  faultless  miniature  frock-coat, 
surmounted  by  the  silken  sheen  of  Lincoln  and  Bennet's 
glossiest ;  but  if  he  made  up  his  mind  to  Alps  and  snow- 
fields,  then  Alps  he  would  have,  pure,  simple,  and  un- 
adulterated. No  half-way  houses  for  him!  He  would 
commune  at  first  hand  with  the  eternal  hills;  he  would 
behold  the  free  life  of  the  mountain  folk  in  all  its  unso- 
phisticated and  primitive  simplicity. 

So  he  gazed  at  his  Tom  Thumb  boots  with  a  regretful 
eye,  and  murmured  pensively  once  more,  "  A  perfect  Bond 
Street ! " 

"  What  shall  we  do  now  ?  "  Will  Deverill  asked,  stop- 
ping short  and  glancing  ahead  towards  the  glaciers  that 
close  the  valley. 

"  See  that  village  on  the  left  there,"  Florian  answered, 
in  a  rapt  tone  of  sudden  inspiration  seizing  his  arm  the- 
atrically ;  "  — no,  not  the  lower  one  on  the  edge  of  the 
level,  but  that  high-perched  group  of  little  wooden  houses 
with  the  green  steeple  by  the  edge  of  the  ravine:  what  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  snow-fields  to  the  south!  From 
there,  one  must  look  at  a  single  glance  over  all  the  spread- 
ing fingers  and  ramifications  of  the  valley." 

"  Perhaps  there's  no  inn  there,"  Will  responded, 
dubiously. 

"  No  inn !  You  prate  to  me  of  inns  ? "  Florian  ex- 
claimed, striking  an  attitude.  "  In  full  view  of  these 
virgin  peaks,  you  venture  to  raise  a  question  of  mere 
earthly  bedrooms — landlord,  waiter,  chambermaid!  Who 
cares  where  he  sleeps — or  whether  he  sleeps  at  all — in 
such  a  village  as  that  ? "  He  struck  his  stick  on  the 
ground  hard  to  enforce  and  emphasize  the  absoluteness 
of  his  determination.  "  The  die  is  cast,"  he  cried,  with 
the  Caesaric  firmness  of  five-feet-nothing.  "  We  cross 
the  stream  at  once,  and  we  make  for  the  village ! " 

"  Well,  there's  probably  somewhere  we  can  put  up  for 
the  night  and  reconnoitre  the  neighborhood,"  Will  Dev- 
erill answered,  as  he  followed  his  friend's  lead.    "If  the 


"TO  INTRODUCE  MR.  FLORIAN  WOOD  '*  13 

worst  comes  to  the  worst,  we  can  fall  back  upon  Zell; 
but  the  priest  will  most  likely  find  us  a  lodging." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  They  mounted  the  steep 
slope,  and  rose  by  gentle  zig-zags  towards  the  upland 
hamlet.  At  each  step  they  took,  the  view  over  the  glacier- 
bound  peaks  that  close  the  glen  to  southward,  opened 
wider  and  wider.  Near  an  Alpine  farmhouse  they  paused 
for  breath.  It  was  built  of  brown  wood,  toned  and  dark- 
ened by  age,  with  projecting  eaves  and  basking  southern 
front,  where  endless  cobs  of  Indian  corn  in  treble  tiers 
and  rows  hung  out  drying  in  the  sunshine.  Florian  drank 
in  the  pretty  picture  with  the  intense  enjoyment  of  youth 
and  health  and  a  rich  sensuous  nature.  There  was  a 
human  element,  too,  giving  life  to  the  foreground.  Three 
Tyrolese  children,  a  boy  and  two  girls,  in  costumes  more 
obstrusively  national  than  they  had  yet  observed,  stood 
playing  with  one  another  on  the  platform  in  front  of  the 
farmhouse.  Florian  beamed  on  them  enchanted.  "  What 
innocence !  "  he  cried,  ecstatically.  "  What  untrammeled 
forms!  What  freedom  of  limb!  What  Hellenic  supple- 
ness! Kow  different  from  the  cramped  motions  of  our 
Londor-bred  children!  You  can  see  in  a  moment  those 
vigorous  young  muscles  have  strengthened  themselves 
from  the  cradle  in  the  bracing  air  of  the  mountains — so 
fresh  they  are,  so  lithe,  so  gracious,  so  lissom !  I  recog- 
nize there  at  once  the  true  note  of  the  Tyrol." 

As  he  spoke,  the  younger  girl,  playing  roughly  with  the 
boy,  gave  him  a  violent  push  which  nearly  sent  him  over 
into  a  neighboring  puddle.  At  that,  the  elder  sister 
clutched  her  hard  by  the  wrist  and  gave  her  a  good 
shaking,  observing  at  the  same  time  in  very  familiar 
accents : 

"  Naow  then,  Mariar-Ann,  if  you  do  like  that  to  *Arry 
agin,  I'll  tike  you  stright  in  an*  tell  your  mother." 

It  was  the  genuine  unmistakable  Cockney  dialect! 

In  an  agony  of  injured  nerves,  Florian  seized  the  elder 
girl  by  the  collar  of  her  dress,  and,  holding  her  at  arm's- 
length,  as  one  might  do  some  venomous  reptile,  demanded 
of  hei ,  sternly,  in  his  severest  tone :  "  Now,  where  on 
earth  did  you  ever  learn  English  ?  " 

The  little  Tyrolese,  trembling  violently  in  his  grasp, 


SI    ' 

■I 

■  1 


u 


LINNET 


stammered  out  in  deadly  fear :  "  Wy,  o'  course,  in 
London." 

"  Pa  was  a  waiter  at  the  Criterion,"  the  younger  sister 
volunteered  in  a  shrill  little  voice  from  a  safe  distance; 
"  and  ma's  an  Englishwoman.  We've  come  'ere  to  retire. 
Pa  's  tiken  the  farm.  But  we  can't  none  of  us  speak  any 
German." 

Florian  relaxed  his  grasp,  a  dejected,  dispirited,  dis- 
appointed mannikin.  "  Go,  wretched  little  mudlark !  "  he 
exclaimed^  with  a  frank  gesture  of  discomfiture,  flinging 
her  from  him  as  he  spoke.  "  There  isn't,  there  never  was, 
any  objective  Tyrol !  " 

The  child  retreated  prudently  to  the  safe  shelter  of  the 
doorway,  before  venturing  on  a  repartee.  Then  she  put 
out  her  tongue  and  took  up  a  stone  in  her  hand.  '"'  Who 
are  you  a-callin'  a  mudlark?  "  she  answered,  with  the  just 
indignation  of  injured  innocence.  "  If  my  pa  was  'ere 
'e  'd  punch  yer  bloomin'  'ead  for  yer." 

It  ill  became  Florian  Wood,  that  man  oi.  taste,  to  bandy 
w^ords  before  the  eternal  hills  with  social  waifs  from  the 
slums  of  Drury  Lane.  He  strode  on  up  the  path  in  moody 
silence.  It  was  some  minutes,  indeed,  before  he  had  suf- 
ficiently recovered  from  this  crushing  blow  to  murmur 
in  a  subdued  voice :  "  What  an  incongruous  circum- 
stance ! " 

"  Not  so  unusual  as  you'd  suppose,  though,"  his  com- 
panion answered  with  a  smile;  for  he  knew  the  Tyrol. 
"  There  are  no  people  on  earth  so  vagrant  in  their  ways 
as  the  Tyrolese.  They  go  away  as  pedlars,  musicians,  or 
waiters;  but  when  they've  made  their  pile,  almost  with- 
out exception,  they  come  back  in  the  end  to  their  native 
valleys.  I  've  more  than  once  met  hunters  or  farmers  in 
these  upland  glens  who  spoke  to  me  in  English,  not  always 
without  a  tinge  of  American  accent.  Perhaps  it 's  not  so 
much  that  these  people  emigrate  as  that  they  always  come 
back  again.  They  think  other  countries  good  enough  to 
make  money  in,  but  the  Zillerthal  's  the  one  place  where 
they'd  care  to  spend  it." 

Florian  answered  nothing.  He  strode  on,  sore  dis- 
tressed. The  only  Tyrol  worth  tuppence,  he  now  knew 
to  his  cost,  was  the  one  he  had  erected,  anterior  to  ex- 
perience, in  his  own  imagination. 


CHAPTER  11 


A   FRESH    ACQUAINTANCE 


It  was  a  steep  pull  up  to  the  little  village  on  the  hill, 
which  Florian  had  selected  by  pure  intuition  for  their 
immediate  headquarters.  But  once  they  had  arrived  there 
the  glorious  panorama  w'  ich  disclosed  itself  in  one  bursv 
to  their  enchanted  eyes  made  them  forget  the  fatigues  of 
their  long  tramp  to  reach  it.  The  village  was  a  tiny  one, 
but  comely  and  prosperous;  composed  of  great  farm- 
houses with  big  boulders  piled  high  on  their  shingled 
roofs  to  keep  them  in  place,  and  a  quaint  old  church, 
whose  tall  and  tapering  spire  was  prettily  tiled  with  bright 
green  slates,  after  the  country  fashion.  Moreover,  what 
was  more  important  just  then  to  the  footsore  travelers, 
a  hospitable  wirthshous  or  village  inn  occupied  a  place 
of  honor  on  the  small  green  in  the  center.  It  was  cheer- 
ful though  homely,  and  c':an  in  a  certain  rough  coun- 
trified way;  and  it  faced  due  south,  toward  the  sun  and 
the  snow-fields.  Florian  saw  at  a  glance  there  would  be 
a  ravishing  outlook  from  the  bedroom  windows ;  and  Will 
Deverill,  more  practical,  and  better  accustomed  to  these 
out-of-the-way  nooks,  felt  inclined  to  believe  they  might 
count  at  least  on  decent  beds,  plain  wholesome  fare,  fresh 
trout  from  the  stream,  and  sweet  venison  from  the  moun- 
tains. 

The  name  over  the  door  was  Andreas  Hausberger. 
Will  entered  the  inn  with  a  polite  inclination  of  the  head, 
and  inquired  in  his  very  best  German  of  the  first  man  he 
saw  if  he  could  speak  with  the  landlord. 

"  I  am  he,"  the  stranger  said,  drawing  himself  up  with 
much  dignity.  "  This  inn  is  my  Schloss.  My  name  is 
Hausberger." 

Will  Deverill  surveyed  him  with  a  critical  air.  He  had 
seen  such  men  before;  they  are  not  uncommon  in  the 
rural  Tyrol.  Tall,  powerful,  big-built,  with  a  resolute 
face  and  a  determined  mien,  he  looked  like  a  man  well 

IS 


i6 


LINNET 


able  to  keep  order  among  the  noisy  frequenters  of  his 
rustic  tavern.  For  the  wirth  or  innkeeper  of  these  re- 
mote villages  is  often,  after  the  priest,  the  most  important 
personage  of  the  little  community :  he  represents  the  tem- 
poral as  the  pfarrer  represents  the  spiritual  authority. 
The  owner  of  four  or  five  horses,  the  entertainer  of 
strange  guests,  the  dispenser  of  liquor  to  the  countryside, 
the  organizer  of  festivals,  marriage- feasts,  and  dances, 
the  proprietor  of  the  one  club  and  assembly-room  of  the 
village,  the  zvirth  is  necessarily  a  man  of  mark  and  of  local 
position,  beyond  anything  that  is  usual  with  his  kind  else- 
where. In  the  communal  council  his  voice  is  supreme; 
the  parlor  is  his  court-house :  he  settles  all  quarrels,  attests 
all  deeds,  arranges  all  assemblies,  and  assists,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  at  all  rural  ceremonies. 

"  Can  we  have  rooms  here  for  a  week?  "  Will  inquired, 
still  in  German. 

The  landlord  led  them  upstairs  and  showed  them  two 
bedrooms  on  the  first  floor,  roughly  furnished,  but  neat, 
and,  as  Florian  had  foreseen,  with  a  glorious  outlook. 
Will  proceeded  to  inquire,  as  interpreter  for  the  party, 
about  various  details  of  price,  possibilities  as  to  meals, 
excursions  in  the  neighborhood,  and  other  practical  mat- 
ters. The  landlord  answered  all  in  the  same  self-respect- 
ing and  almost  haughty  tone  as  before,  assuring  him  in 
few  words  as  to  the  excellence  of  the  bread  and  the  meat, 
the  cleanliness  of  the  beds,  the  soundness  of  the  beer, 
and  the  advantages  and  respectability  of  his  estab- 
lishment in  general.  "  You  will  be  as  well  here,"  he  said, 
summing  up,  ''as  in  New  York  or  London — a  little  less 
luxury,  perhaps,  but  quite  as  much  real  and  solid  com- 
fort." 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  "  Florian  asked,  languidly ,  as  the 
landlord  finished.  For,  though  in  his  capacity  as  man  of 
culture,  the  philosopher  of  taste  was  prepared  to  give  a 
critical  opinion  offhand  at  any  moment,  on  Goethe  or 
Heine,  the  Minnesanger,  or  the  Nibelungenlied,  he  was 
innocent  of  even  the  faintest  acquaintance  with  the  Ger- 
man language.  Two  words  in  it  amply  served  his  turn: 
vvith  wieviel  and  ja  wohl,  he  made  the  tour  of  the  Father- 
land. 

Will  explained  to  him  in  brief,  and  in  the  vulgar  tongue, 


A  FRESH  ACQUAINTANCE 


»7 


the  nature  of  the  landlord's  somewhat  high-flown  com- 
mendations. 

By  way  of  answer  Florian  unslung  his  knapsack,  which 
he  flung  on  the  bed  with  as  much  iron  determination  as 
his  height  permitted.  "  This  '11  do,"  he  said,  decisively — 
this  time  in  his  character  as  the  man  of  impulse.  "  I  like 
the  house ;  I  like  the  place ;  I  like  the  view ;  I  like  the 
landlord.  He  's  a  dignified  looking  old  boy  in  his  way, 
the  landlord,  with  that  independence  of  mien  and  that 
manly  chivalry  which  forms  an  integral  part  of  my  mental 
conception  of  the  Tyrolese  character.  No  bowing  and 
scraping  there;  no  civilized  flunkeydom.  And  that  scar 
on  his  face,  you  observe ;  what  a  history  it  conceals :  some 
free  fight  on  the  hills,  no  doubt,  or  some  tussle  with  a 
wounded  bear  in  his  native  forest !  " 

"  Wal,  no ;  not  pre-cisely  that,"  the  landlord  answered, 
m  very  Teutonic  English,  strangely  tinged  with  an  under- 
current of  a  most  Western  flavor.  "  I  got  that  mark  in  a 
scrimmage  one  day  on  a  Mississippi  steamer.  It  was  a 
pretty  hard  fight,  with  a  pretty  hard  lot,  too — he  was  a 
real  rough  customer — one  of  these  professional  monte- 
sharpers  that  go  up  and  down  on  the  boats  on  the  lookout 
for  flats;  but  I  settled  him,  anyway.  He  didn't  want 
another  when  we'd  squared  accounts  over  that  gash  on 
my  face.  He  retired  into  private  life  at  the  St.  Louis 
hospital  for  the  next  few  voyages." 

Poor  Fi,)rian  collapsed.  This  was  too.  ^oo  much!  He 
sank  on  the  sofa  with  a  dejected  face,  drew  a  very  long 
breath  from  the  innenfiost  depths  of  his  manly  bosom,  and 
at  last  gasped  out  with  a  violent  eiTort :  "  Are  there  no 
Tyrolese  in  the  Tyrol  at  all,  then  ?  " 

The  landlord  smiled,  a  restrained  and  cautious  smile. 
He  was  a  self-contained  sort  of  man  very  large  and 
roomy.  "  Why,  I  'm  a  T\roler,  myself,"  he  said,  opening 
the  second  window,  and  bustling  about  the  room  a  little — 
"  as  Tyrolese  as  they  make  'em ;  but  I  've  been  around 
the  world  a  bit,  for  all  that,  both  in  Europe  and  America." 

"You  play  the  zither?"  Will  inouired  guessing  at 
once  what  quest  was  most  likely  to  have  taken  him  there. 

The  landlord  shook  his  head.  "No;  I  sing,"  he 
answered.  "  It  was  in  charge  of  a  troupe  that  I  went 
over  the  water.    You  know  Ludwig  Rainer?  " 


i8 


LINNET 


!       ! 


I 


li! 


"Who  has  an  hotel  on  the  Achensee?"  Will  replied. 
"The  well-known  jodel  singer?  Yes;  I've  stayed  there 
and  heard  him." 

"  Wal,  he  set  the  thing  going,"  Herr  Andreas  Haus- 
berger  continued,  still  bustling  about  the  room ;  "  he  took 
over  a  troupe  to  New  York  and  Chicawgo.  The  first  time, 
he  fell  in  with  a  pack  of  scoundrels  who  cheated  him  of 
everything  he  made  by  the  trip.  The  second  time,  he 
came  back  with  a  few  hundred  dollars.  The  third  time. 
he  got  into  a  very  good  thing,  and  made  money  enough  "3 
out  of  his  tour  to  start  the  Seehof.  So  /  followed  suit, 
but  I  only  saved  enough  on  my  first  venture  to  set  me  up 
here  in  this  house  in  the  village.  It's  a  one-horse  affair 
for  a  man  like  me.  Next  time,  I  hope  I  shall  make  a 
little  capital  to  start  a  big  hotel  for  foreign  tourists  and 
kur-guests  at  Meran  or  Innsbruck." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  go  again  ?  "  Will  Deverill  asked, 
sitting  down. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  the  landlord  answered,  retreating  to 
the  door,  "  as  soon  as  ever  I  can  get  another  good  troupe 
together  again."  And  with  a  ceremonious  bow,  like  a 
courtly  gentleman  that  he  was,  he  retired  downstairs  to 
superintend  the  preparation  of  those  fresh  mountain  trout 
he  had  promised  them  for  dinner. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  Florian  raised  himself  on 
one  elbow  like  a  startled  butterfly,  with  an  air  of  studious 
vacancy,  and  stared  hard  at  Will  Deverill.  "  What  an 
extraordinary  country,"  he  murmured,  with  a  pensive  sigh. 
"  It 's  Babel  reversed.  Everybody  seems  to  speak  and 
understand  every  European  language.  The  very  babes 
and  sucklings  call  one  names  as  one  passes,  in  vile  gutter 
English.  It 's  really  quite  uncanny.  Who  'd  have 
thought,  now,  of  meeting  in  an  out-of-the-way  lost  corner 
of  earth  like  this,  a  village  innkeeper  who  's  a  man  of  the 
world,  a  distinguished  traveler,  an  accomplished  linguist, 
and  an  intelligent  impresario?  The  ways  of  Providence 
are  truly  mysterious !  What  a  place  to  bury  such  a  shin- 
ing light!  Why  dump  him  down  so,  in  this  untrodden 
valley?" 

"  Oh,  it  *s  not  by  any  means  such  a  singular  case  as 
you  suppose,"  Will  answered,  looking  up  from  the  knap- 
sack he  was  engaged  in  unpacking — "  above  all,  in  the 


A  FRESH  ACQUAINTANCE 


19 


Zillerthal.  1  Ve  never  been  here  before  myself,  but  I  've 
always  been  told  in  other  parts  of  the  Tyrol  that  the  Ziller- 
thalers,  men  and  girls,  are  every  one  of  them  born  musi- 
cians. And  as  for  our  landlord  here,  the  Tyrolese  luirth 
is  always  a  man  of  light  and  leading  in  his  own  society. 
He  opposes  the  priest,  and  heads  the  liberal  party.  All 
the  popular  leaders  in  the  war  of  independence  in  the 
Tyrol  were  monks  or  innkeepers.  Andreas  Hofer,  him- 
self, you  know,  had  an  inn  of  his  own  in  the  Passer  valley." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure/'  Florian  ejaculated,  in  an  acquiescent 
tone  of  a  peculiar  calibre,  which  showed  his  friend  at  once 
he  hadn't  the  remotest  idea  who  Andreas  Hofer,  was  or 
why  one  should  be  expected  to  know  anything  about  him. 
Now,  want  of  knowledge  on  such  a  point  is,  of  course, 
most  natural  and  pardonable  in  a  stranger ;  but  there  was 
no  sufficient  reason.  Will  Deverill  thought,  for  Florian's 
pretence  at  its  possession  where  he  really  knew  nothing. 
That,  however,  was  poor  Florian's  foible.  He  couldn't 
bear  to  have  it  thought  he  was  ignorant  of  anything,  from 
mathematics  or  music  to  esoteric  Buddhism.  If  a  native 
of  Siberia  had  addressed  him  casually  in  the  Ostiak  dialect 
of  the  Tungusian  language,  Florian  would  have  nodded 
and  smiled  a  non-committing  assent,  as  though  Ostiak 
had  always  been  his  mother-tongue,  and  he  had  drunk  in 
Tungusian  at  his  nurse's  bosom. 

"You  know  who  Andreas  Hofer  was,  of  course?'* 
Deverill  went  on  persistently.  He  was  a  devil  of  a  fellow 
for  not  letting  you  oflf  when  he  caught  you  out  in  an  inno- 
cent little  piece  of  social  pretension,  was  Deverill. 

Florian,  thus  hard  pressed,  found  himself  compelled  to 
do  what  he  hated  most  in  the  world — confess  his  ignor- 
ance. "  I  remember  the  gentleman's  respected  name,  of 
course !  "  he  said,  dubiously,  with  a  sickly  smile  and  a  little 
forced  pleasantry ;  "  but  his  precise  claims  to  distinction, 
as  Men  of  the  Time  puts  it  in  its  cheerful  circular,  entirely 
escape  my  memory  for  the  moment." 

"  He  was  the  leader  of  the  spontaneous  Tyrolese  peasant 
movement,  you  know,  for  the  expulsion  of  the  French  and 
their  Bavarian  allies  in  1808  or  thereabouts,"  Will  went 
on,  still  unpacking.  "  Napoleon  caught  him  at  last,  and 
had  him  shot  at  Mantua.  You'll  see  his  tomb  when  you 
go  to  Innsbruck,  and  lots  of  other  mementos  of  him  all 


, 


f. 


26 


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i 


over  the  country  everywhere.  He  pervades  the  place. 
He  *s  the  national  hero,  in  fact — the  martyr  of  independ- 
ence— a.  sort  of  later  and  more  historical  William  Wallace." 

"  Dear  me,  yes ;  how  stupid  of  me !  "  Florian  cried,  clap- 
ping his  hand  to  his  head  in  a  sudden  burst  of  pretended 
recollection.  "  It  comes  back  to  me  now,  of  course.  Good 
old  Andreas  Hofer.  How  could  I  ever  forget  him  ?  The 
Tyrolese  William  Tell!  The  Hampden  of  the  Alps. 
The  undaunted  Caractacus  of  these  snow-clad  moun- 
tains ! " 

Deverill  pulled  off  his  coat.  "  If  I  were  you,"  he  said, 
drily,  **  instead  of  rhapsodizing  here,  I'd  go  into  my  own 
room,  have  a  jolly  good  wash,  and  get  ready  for  dinner. 
We  must  have  walked  about  twenty-two  miles  since  we 
got  out  at  Jenbach,  and  this  bracing  air  gives  one  a  posi- 
tively Gargantuan  appetite." 

Florian  roused  himself  with  a  yawn,  for  though  vig- 
orous enough  of  his  size,  he  was  a  lazy  creature,  and  when 
once  he  sat  down  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  put  himself  in  motion  again.  Ten  minutes 
later  they  were  seated  at  the  white-covered  table  in  the 
tidy  little  salon,  doing  the  fullest  justice  to  the  delicious 
broiled  trout,  the  foaming  amber  ale,  the  fresh  laid  eggs, 
and  the  excellent  home-made  bread,  provided,  according 
to  promise,  by  Herr  Andreas  Hausberger. 


CHAPTER  III 


WITHIN   SIGHT  OF  A   HEROINE 


Next  morning  early,  aroused  by  the  cloister  bell,  Will 
Deverill  rose,  and  looked  out  of  his  window.  Oh,  such 
an  exquisite  day !  In  that  clear,  crisp  air  the  summits  of 
the  Floitenspitze,  the  Loffler,  and  the  Tumerkamp  glist- 
ened like  diamonds  in  the  full  morning  sunlight.  'Twas  a 
sight  to  rejoice  his  poetic  soul.  For  Will  Deverill,  though 
too  modest  to  give  himself  airs,  like  Florian,  was  a  poet  by 
birth,  and  a  journalist  by  trade.  Nature  had  designed  him 
for  an  immortal  bard ;  circumstances  had  turned  him  into 
an  occasional  leader-writer.  He  stood  there  entranced  for 
many  minutes  together.  He  had  pushed  the  leaded 
window  open  wide  when  he  first  rose,  and  the  keen  moun- 
tain air  blew  in  at  it  most  refreshingly.  All,  all  was 
beautiful.  He  looked  out  on  the  fresh  green  pastures, 
the  deep  glen  below,  the  white  stream  in  its  midst,  the 
still  whiter  tops  of  the  virgin  mountains  beyond  it.  A 
stanza  for  his  new  poem  rose  spontaenous  in  his  mind  as 
he  leaned  his  arms  on  the  low  sill  and  gazed  out  upon  the 
great  glaciers : 

"I  found  it  not  where  solemn  Alps  and  grey 
Draw  crimson  glories  from  the  new-born  day, 
Nor  where  huge  sombre  pines  loom  overhanging 
Niagara's  rainbow  spray." 


He  was  just  feeling  in  his  pocket  for  a  pencil  to  jot 
down  the  rough  draft  of  these  few  lines,  when  of  a  sudden, 
at  the  window  in  the  next  room  at  the  side,  what  should 
he  see  but  Florian's  pale  face  peeping  forth  most  piteously. 

"What's  the  matter?  Haven't  you  slept?"  Will  in- 
quired of  his  disconsolate  friend  with  a  sympathetic  nod. 

The  epicurean  philosopher  shook  a  sad,  slow  head  with 
a  painfully  cheerful  air  of  stoical  resignation.  "  Not  a 
wink    since    three    o'clock,"    he    answered,    gloomily. 

ax 


22 


LINNET 


mil 


(( 


not- 


"  Those  dreadful   creatures   have  bothered   me   without 

ceasing." 

"  Surely,"  Will  began,  somewhat  surprised, 
Florian  shook  his  head  wearily.     "  No,  wo 

he  murmured  with  melancholy  emphasis. 

about  them. 


not  them," 
I  don't  mind 
They,  at  least,  are  silent,  and,  besides,  if  you 
like,  you  can  get  up  and  catch  them.  Bells,  bells !  my  dear 
fellow;  bells,  bells,  all  the  morning.  They've  been  tink- 
ling in  my  ear  every  blessed  minute  since  the  clock  struck 
three.     It's  unendurable,  horrible." 

"  Oh,  the  cow-bells !  "  Will  answered,  laughing.  "  Why, 
for  my  part,  I  like  them.  They're  a  feature  of  the  place ; 
they  sound  so  countrified.  I  hardly  hear  them  at  all,  or 
if  I  hear  them,  they  come  to  me  drowsily  through  the  haze 
of  my  dreams  like  die  murmur  of  water  or  a  nurse's  lulla- 
by. I  find  them,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  positively  sooth- 
ing. Beside,"  he  added,  mischievously,  with  a  malicious 
little  smile,  "  in  such  a  village  as  this,  who  cares  where  he 
sleeps,  or  whether  he  sleeps  at  all  ?  He  should  be  able  to 
subsist  here  on  scenery  and  the  aflfections." 

At  the  words,  Floiian's  head  disappeared  incontinently. 
That,  surely,  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all.  Thus  convic- 
ted out  of  his  own  mouth,  by  his  familiar  friend,  he  could 
but  retire  abashed  to  complete  his  toilet.  That  Deverill 
should  have  slept  all  night  long,  while  he  lay  awake,  and 
tossed,  and  turned,  and  wished  ill  to  the  whole  ill-omened 
race  of  cows,  was  bad  enough  in  all  conscience ;  but  that 
he  should  pretend  he  liked  those  disgusting  bells  was  noth- 
ing short  of  atrocious. 

He  descended  a  little  later  to  the  homely  parlor.  Will 
was  down  there  before  him,  and  had  succeeded  in  ferreting? 
out  an  old  violin  from  a  corner  cupboard.  He  was  musi- 
cal, was  Will — not,  to  be  sure,  in  the  grand  perceptive 
and  critical  way,  like  Florian  himself,  who  played  no  in- 
strument and  understood  all  perfectly,  but,  after  the  in- 
ferior fashion  of  the  mere  dexterous  executant,  who 
possesses  a  certain  physical  suppleness  and  deftness  of 
fingers  to  elicit  from  dumb  strings  the  most  delicate  fan- 
cies of  a  Mendelssohn  or  a  Chopin.  In  pursuance  of  this 
lesser  gift  of  his — "  the  common  faculty  of  the  fiddler," 
as  Florian  called  it — Will  was  just  then  engaged  by  the 
open  window  in  playing  over  to  himself  a  pretty  little  song 


WITHIN  SIGHT  OF  A  HEROINE 


as 


by  some  unknown  composer.  He  played  it  very  well,  too, 
Florian  admitted,  condescendingly ;  Will  had  a  capital  ear, 
indeed,  and  was  not  without  feeling  of  a  sort,  for  the  finer 
touches  in  musical  composition — up  to  a  certain  point, 
you  know;  not  quite,  of  course,  to  the  high  and  delicate 
level  of  Florian's  own  cultivated  and  refined  perceptions. 
It  was  a  charming  piece,  however — a  very  charming  piece 
— and,  after  a  while.  Will  began  singing  the  words  to  it. 
Florian  listened  with  pleasure  and  a  forgiving  smile  to  the 
clever  twists  and  turns  of  that  well-arranged  melody. 

As  he  stood  there,  listening,  a  little  behind,  one  impres- 
sive forefinger  held  up  in  an  attitude  of  discriminative  at- 
tention, he  was  aware  of  two  voices  in  the  street  outside 
catching  up  the  tune  naturally,  and  fitting  it  as  if  in  sport 
to  shapeless  syllables  of  their  own  invention.  They  were 
women's  voices,  too,  young  and  rich  and  powerful;  and 
what  was  odder  still,  to  Florian's  immense  surprise,  they 
took  up  their  proper  parts  as  second  and  third  in  a  con- 
certed piece,  like  trained  musicians.  Strange  to  find  such 
finished  vocalists  in  a  mere  peasant  hamlet! — but,  there, 
no  doubt  they  were  some  of  Herr  Hausberger's  Trans- 
atlantic performers.  Florian  moved  closer  to  the  window 
to  observe  the  unknown  but  silvery-tongued  strangers. 
As  he  did  so,  two  plump  and  rosy-cheeked  mountain  lasses, 
in  homespun  kirtles,  fled,  blushing  and  giggling,  with  their 
hands  to  their  mouths,  away  from  the  close  scrutiny  of  the 
foreign  Herrschaft.  Accustomed  as  he  was  by  this  time 
to  marvelous  incongruities  in  this  land  of  surprises, 
Florian  could  hardly  believe  his  own  eyes  when  he  further 
observed  that  the  two  girls  with  the  divine  voices  were 
driving  cows  home  from  the  pasture  to  the  milking  shed. 
Great  heavens,  yes!  there  was  no  gainsaying  it.  Shade 
of  War:ner,  incredible !  The  accomplished  vocalists  whose 
fine  sense  of  melody  so  delighted  his  acute  and  critical  ear 
were  nothing  but  a  pair  of  common  country  milkmaids ! 

Will  Deverill,  too,  had  risen,  and,  with  a  friendly  nod, 
was  gazing  out  appreciation  at  his  unknown  accompanists. 
Florian  turned  to  him,  all  amazement.  "  They  must  have 
practised  it  before,"  he  cried.  "  They  must  know  it  all  of 
old.  It  must  certainly  be  one  of  their  own  national 
pieces." 

"Oh,  no,"  the  poet  replied  in  a  very  confident  voice. 


H 


LINNET 


(( 


They  can't  possibly  have  heard  it.  It's  quite,  quite  new. 
I'm  sure  about  that.     It's  never  yet  been  published." 

**  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  Florian  exclaimed,  with  much 
argumentative  heat,  "  I  assure  you,  none  but  the  most 
instructed  musicians  could  possibly  take  up  the  right 
chords  like  that,  and  sing  them  second  and  third, 
without  having  practiced  them  beforehand.  Allow  me  to 
know  something  of  the  musical  art.  Even  Patti  her- 
self  " 

"  Why,  the  song's  my  own,"  Will  broke  in,  much 
amused,  and  unable  to  restrain  himself.  "  I  ought  to 
know ;  it  was  I  who  wrote  it." 

"  The  words !  ah,  yes,  to  be  sure ;  the  words  are  noth- 
ing. They  didn't  sing  them,  of  course;  'twas  the  melody 
they  caught  at.  And  the  melody,  I  venture  to  assert,  with- 
out fear  of  contradiction — the  melody,  from  the  peculiar 
way  it  modulates  into  the  sub-dominant,  must  certainly  be 
one  of  their  own  love  songs." 

"  But  I  composed  the  tune  too,"  Will  made  answer  with 
a  quiet  smile.  "  It's  never  been  played  before.  It  came 
up  into  my  head  in  the  railway  carriage  yesterday,  and 
seeing  this  old  fiddle  in  the  cupboard  this  morning,  I 
thought  I'd  try  it  over  before  scoring  it  down,  just  to  hear 
how  it  sounded." 

"  You  wrote  it ! "  Florian  repeated,  dazzled  and  stunned 
at  the  news.  **  You  compose  as  well  as  rhyme!  You  set 
your  own  songs  to  music,  do  you?  Well,  upon  my  soul, 
Deverill,  I  hadn't  till  this  moment  the  slightest  idea  you 
had  such  an  accomplishment." 

"  Oh,  I'm  only  a  beginner,"  Will  answered,  with  a  faint 
blush,  laying  down  the  violin, — "  or  rather  an  amateur, 
for  I've  always  dabbled  in  it.  But  I've  only  published  one 
song.  I  just  strum  to  amuse  myself.  Good  morning, 
Herr  Hausberger;  what  an  exquisite  day!  We'd  better 
take  advantage  of  it  for  a  climb  up  the  Rauhenkopf." 

The  landlord,  dish  in  hand,  bowed  his  cour'^eous  and 
courtly  bow.  There  was  deference  in  it,  without  a  tinge 
of  servility.  Florian  noted  with  approbation  that  mixture 
of  independence  and  a  just  self-respect  which  formed  a 
component  part  of  his  preconceived  idea  of  the  Tyrolese 
character.  Andreas  Hausberger  was  "  right,"  because  he 
was  very  much  as  Florian  would  have  pictured  him. 


WITHIN  ':IGHT  OF  A  HEROINE 


as 


If-, 


"  Yes;  a  very  good  day  for  the  ascent,"  the  landloid  said, 
quietly.  "  We  will  put  up  some  lunch — cold  meat  and 
Pilsener.  You'll  get  a  fine  view,  if  you  start  in  good  time, 
over  the  Zementhal  glaciers." 

Florian  sat  down  to  the  table,  a  trifle  crestfallen ;  but 
the  poached  eggs  were  excellent,  and  the  coffee  fragrant ; 
and  he  consoled  himself  for  the  cow-bells  and  the  mishap 
about  the  song  by  the  reflection  that,  after  all,  these  idyllic 
milkmaids,  with  the  voice  of  a  prima  donna  and  the  man- 
ners of  Arcadia,  were  in  exact  accordance  with  the  oper- 
atic ideal  of  his  own  imagined  Tyrol.  They  sang  like  the 
Chorus  of  Happy  Peasants ;  they  behaved  as  the  mountain 
lass  of  poetry  ought  always  to  behave,  and  as  the  mountain 
lass  of  reality  often  utterly  fails  to  do. 

That  morning  on  the  Rauhenkopf  was  to  Florian  a  day 
of  unmixed  delights.  He  was  At  Home  with  Nature. 
In  a  vague  sort  of  way,  without  troubling  himself  much  to 
know  anything  about  them,  the  town-bred  philosopher 
loved  the  fragrant  fields,  the  beiutiful  flowers,  the  mossy 
rocks,  the  bright  birds,  the  chirping  insects.  And  Will 
Deverill  knew  them  all — their  names,  and  where  to  find 
them.  The  ragged,  sweet-scented  pinks  still  loitered  late 
in  deep  clefts  of  the  glacier-worn  rock ;  a  few  stray  sky- 
blue  gentians  st'.ll  starred  the  rich  patches  of  Alpine  pas- 
ture; emperors  and  orange-tips  still  flaunted  their  gaudy 
wings  in  full  autumn  sunshine.  Florian  drank  in  all  these 
things  with  pure  sensuous  delight ;  the  sweet  sounds  of  the 
fields,  the  smell  of  tedded  kine  filled  his  aesthetic  soul,  not 
so  much  with  direct  pleasure,  as  with  some  faint  afterglow 
of  literary  reminiscence. 

At  one  of  the  little  alp-huts  among  the  higher  pastures. 
Will  Deverill  murmured  a  cheerful  "  Guten  Morgen,"  as 
he  passed,  to  a  buxom  peasant  lass  in  a  woollen  kirtle,  who 
stood  busy  at  her  churn  by  the  door  of  her  chalet.  The 
girl  curtseyed,  and  looked  back  at  them  with  such  a  good- 
humored  smile  that  Florian,  as  an  admirer  of  female 
beauty,  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  of  standing  still  for 
a  moment  to  take  a  good  long  gaze  at  her.  "  What's  she 
doing  up  here  alone?  "  he  asked  at  last,  turning  curiously 
to  Will,  as  the  girl  still  smiled  at  him.  "  Does  she  come 
up  here  every  day  ?  It's  a  fearful  long  pull  for  her.  But 
then — this  charming  air !  such  strength !  such  agility  1 " 


26 


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tt 


ii!   IIM 


Why,  she  lives  here/'  Will  answered,  surprised  that 
anyone  shouldn't  know  what  to  him  was  such  an  obvious 
and  familiar  fact.  "  She  doesn't  come  up  at  all,  except 
once  in  the  spring;  and  in  autumn  she  goes  down  again. 
It  must  be  nearly  time  for  her  to  go  down  now,  I  should 
say.  There's  not  much  fodder  left  in  these  upper  alps 
here." 

"  Lives  here ! "  Florian  exclaimed,  taken  aback. 
"  What  ? — and  sleeps  here  as  well  ?  You  don't  mean  to 
say  she  sleeps  in  that  little  wooden  box  thei  e  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  She's  a  scnnerin.  you  know ;  it's  her  busi- 
ness to  do  it.  All  the  alp  girls  live  like  that ;  they've  been 
born  and  brought  up  to  it." 

In  his  innermost  soul,  Florian  was  dying  to  know  what 
manner  of  wild  beast  a  sennerin  might  be — being  undecid- 
ed in  his  own  mind  ?.s  to  whether  it  was  most  probably 
the  name  of  a  race,  a  religion,  a  caste,  or  a  profession. 
But  it  would  have  been  treason  to  his  principles  to  confess 
this  fact,  so  he  compromised  with  his  curiosity  by  murmur- 
ing blandly  in  reply,  "Oh,  ay,  to  be  sure,  a  scnnerin! 
I  might  have  guessed  it!  Do  you  think  now,  Deverill,  if 
we  asked  her  very  nicely,  she'd  let  us  go  in  and  inspect  her 
chalet?" 

"  I'm  sure  she  would,"  Will  answered,  half  repressing  a 
smile.  "  They  see  so  little  of  any  outsiders  while  they're 
up  here  on  their  alps  that  they're  only  too  glad,  as  a  rule, 
when  a  stranger  visits  them.  We'll  give  her  a  couple  of 
kreuzers  for  a  glass  of  milk ;  that'll  serve  as  an  introduc- 
tion." 

He  raised  his  hat  jauntily,  and  approached  the  hut  with 
a  few  words  of  apology.  The  scnnerin  smiled  in  return, 
bobbed,  curtseying  low,  and  welcomed  them  aflfably  to  her 
hospitable  shelter.  After  a  minute's  parley  with  Will. 
the  good-humored  young  woman  brought  out  a  jug  of 
fresh  milk,  still  frothy  from  the  cow,  and  poured  it  out  for 
them  liberally  in  a  blue  stoneware  mug.  Will  drank  his 
off  at  a  draught;  Florian  hated  milk,  but  as  admirer  of 
female  beauty — she  was  a  good-looking  wench — he  gu.ped 
it  down  to  the  dregs  without  even  a  grimace,  and  handed 
the  mug  back  again.  Then  Deverill  talked  for  a  while 
with  their  sunburnt  entertainer  in  that  unknown  tongue 


WITHIN  SIGHT  OF  A  HEROINE 


27 


which  Florian  didn't  understand;  though  he  could  see 
from  thair  laughing  faces  and  their  quick  tones  of  repartee 
that  she  was  a  merry  brown  lass,  shy  and  bashful  indeed 
before  the  foreign  gentlefolk,  but  frank  and  fearless  for 
ill  that  as.  his  soul  could  wish,  and  absolutely  free  from  the 
absurd  conventionalities  and  mauvaise  honte  of  the  women 
who  dwell  in  our  too  civilized  cities.  She  was  no  more 
afraid  of  men  than  of  oxen.  Florian  liked  that  well.  Here, 
at  least,  was  true  freedom ;  here,  at  least,  was  ancestral  sim- 
plicity of  life;  here  the  woman  held  her  own  on  equal 
terms  with  the  man ;  here  love  was  unfettered  by  law  or 
by  gold,  untrammelled  by  those  hampering  inconvenient 
restraints  of  parental  supervision,  society,  or  priestcraft, 
which  impede  its  true  course  in  our  too  complex  com- 
munities. Florian's  lungs  breathed  freer  in  this  rarified 
air :  he  had  risen  above  the  zone  of  Mrs.  Grundy. 

At  the  end  of  their  brisk  colloquy,  which  he  followed 
but  in  part,  the  sennerin,  with  a  gesture  of  countrified 
courtesy,  turned  to  the  door  with  a  pretty  smile  and  waved 
Florian  into  her  chalet.  "  She  says  you  may  look  over  it 
and  welcome,"  Will  Deverill  exclaimed,  interrupting. 
Florian,  nothing  daunted,  entered  and  gazed  around.  It 
was  a  rough  log  hut,  divided  into  two  rooms  by  a  wooden 
partition — a  big  one,  with  a  door  behind,  for  the  cows  and 
calves;  and  a  little  one,  with  a  door  in  front,  for  the 
sennerin's  own  bed-chamber,  kitchen,  and  parlor.  The 
chief  article  of  furniture  seemed  to  him  to  consist  of  a 
great  black  cauldron,  suspended  from  a  crane  over  the  open 
fireplace,  and  used — so  Will  assured  him — as  the  principal 
utensil  in  the  manufacture  of  cheese.  The  fire  itself  blazed 
in  a  hole,  dug  roughly  in  t*he  floor  of  native  turf ;  the  edge 
of  this  hole,  cut  out  into  a  rude  seat,  did  duty  as  sofa, 
couch,  chair,  and  c  limney-corner.  Florian  sniffed  some- 
what dubiously.  "  And  she  sleeps  here  all  alone  ?  "  he 
said,  with  a  suppressed  shudder.  This  was  Arcadian  sim- 
plicity, he  felt,  with  quite  too  much  of  the  bloom  off. 

"  Yes ;  she  sleeps  here  all  alone,"  Will  answered,  undis- 
turbed. "  Comes  up  in  May,  when  the  snow  first  melts, 
and  goes  down  in  October,  when  it  begins  to  lie  thick 
again." 

The  sennerin,  laughing  aloud,  confirmed  his  report  with 


^Ililllll 


28 


LINNET 


many  nods  and  shrugs,  and  much  good-humored  merri- 
ment. It  amused  her  to  see  the  stranger's  hsrtf-incredul- 
ous  astonishment. 

"  And  aren't  you  frightened  ? "  Florian  asked,  Will  in- 
terpreting the  question  for  him. 

The  scnnerin  laughed  the  bare  idea  to  scorn.  "  Why 
should  I  be  ?  ''  she  exclaimed,  brimming  over  with  smiles 
of  naive  surprise  at  such  a  grotesque  notion.  "  There 
are  plenty  more  girls  in  all  the  other  huts  on  the  alps 
round  about.  This  hut's  Andreas  Hausberger's,  and  so 
are  that  and  that.  He  owns  all  these  pastures ;  we  come 
up  and  herd  cows  for  him." 

"  Isn't  it  terribly  lonely  though  ?  "  Florian  inquired  with 
open  eyes,  reflecting  silently  to  himself  that  after  all  there 
were  advantages — of  a  sort — in  Bond  Street. 

"  Lonely ! "  the  senncrin  cried,  in  her  own  country  dia- 
lect. "  We've  no  time  to  be  lonely.  We  have  to  mind 
the  cows,  don't  you  see,  worthy  well-born  Herr,  and  give 
milk  to  the  calves,  and  make  cheese  and  butter,  and  clean 
our  pots  and  pans,  and  do  everything  ourselves  for  our 
food  and  washing.  I  can  tell  you  we're  tired  enough 
when  the  day's  well  over,  and  we  creep  into  our  loft,  and 
fall  asleep  on  the  straw  there." 

"  And  she  has  no  Society  ? "  Florian  exclaimed,  all 
aghast  at  the  thought.  For  to  him  the  companionship  of 
his  brother  man,  and  perhaps  even  more  of  his  sister 
woman,  was  a  necessary  of  existence. 

The  girl's  eye  brightened  with  an  unwonted  fire  as  Will 
explained  the  remark  to  her.  "  Ah,  yes,"  she  said  half- 
saucily,  with  a"  very  coquettish  toss  of  her  pretty  black- 
head ;  "  when  Saturday  night  comes  round  then  sure 
enough  our  mountain  lads  climb  up  from  the  valley  below 
to  visit  us.  We  have  Saturday  to  ourselves — and  them — 
till  Monday  morning ;  for  you  know  the  song  says — "  and 
she  trilled  it  out  archly  in  clear,  qu'  k  notes — 


*'  With  my  pouch  unhung, 
And  my  rifle  slunf?, 
And  away  to  my  black-eyed  alp-girl !  " 

She  sang  it  expressively,  in  a  rich  full  voice,  far  sweeter 
than  could  have  been  expected  from  so  stalwart  a  maiden. 


WITHIN  SIGHT  OF  A  HEROINE 


29 


iFlori'an  saw  an  opportunity  for  bringing  out  one  stray 
phrase  from  his  slender  stock  of  German.  "  Das  ist 
schon ! "  he  cried,  clapping  his  hands ;  "sehr  schon ! 
So  schon ! "  Then  he  relapsed  into  his  mother-tongue. 
"  And  you  sing  it  admirably !  " 

Their  evident  appreciation  touched  the  alp-girl's  vanity. 

Like  most  of  her  class  she  had  no  false  modesty.     She 

I  broke  out  at  once  spontaneously  into  another  native  song, 

Iwith  a  wild  free  lilt,  which  exactly  suited  both  her  voice 

I  and  character.     It  was  excellently  rendered ;  even  Florian, 

I  that  stern  critic,  admitted  as  much;  and  as  soon  as  she 

ended  both  men  clapped  their  hands  in  sincere  applause 

I  of  her  unpremeditated  performance.     The  scnnerin  looked 

down  modestly  when  Will  praised  her  singing.     "Ah, 

I  you  should  just  hear  Linnet !  "  she  cried,  in  unaffected  self- 

j  depreciation. 

"  And  who's  Linnet  ?  "  Will  asked,  smiling  at  the  girl's 
perfect  frankness. 

"  Oh,  she's  one  of  Hen  Hausberger's  cow-girls,"  the 
isennerin  answered,  with  a  little  shake  of  her  saucy  head. 
*'  But  you  needn't  ask  her;  she's  a  great  deal  too  shy ;  she 
I  won't  give  you  a  chance ;  she  never  sings  before  strangers." 

"  That's  a  pity,"  Will  replied,  lightly,  not  much  think- 
i  ing  what  he  said ;  "  for  if  she  sings  better  than  you,  worthy 
friend,  she  must  be  well  worth  hearing." 

The  sennerin  looked  down  again.     Her  ruddy  cheek 

[glowed  ruddier.     Such  praise  from  such  lips  discomposed 

her  serenity.     Will  glanced  at  his  watch.     "  We  must  be 

going,   Florian,"   he   said.    "Half-past   twelve   already! 

[I've  no  coppers  in  my  pocket.     Have  you  anything  you 

[can  offer  this  lady  gay  for  her  agreeable  entertainment?  " 

Florian  pulled  out  his  purse,  and  took  from  it  gingerly  a 
I  well-worn  twenty-kreuzer  piece — one  of  those  flimsy 
silvered  shams  which  the  Austrian  Government  in  its  pa- 
Jternal  stirginess  imposes  as  money  upon  its  faithful  lieges. 
iThe  sennerin  accepted  it  with  a  profusion  of  thanks,  and 
tsmothered  the  generous  donor's  hand  with  unstinted 
[kisses.  So  much  happiness  may  a  man  diffuse  in  this 
world  of  woe  with  a  fourpenny  pit,  bestowed  in  due 
[season!  But  Florian  mistook  that  customary  symbol  of 
^thanks  on  the  alp-girl's  part  for  an  expression  of  her  most 
leart-felt  personal  consideration;  and  not  to  be  outdone 


11: 


30 


LINNET 


when  it  came  to  idyllic  courtship,  he  lifted  her  hand  in  re- 
turn to  his  own  gracious  lips  and  kissed  it  gallantly.  Will 
raised  his  hat  and  smiled,  without  commenting  on  this 
misconception,  and  with  a  cheery  "  Auf  wiedersehen ! " 
they  went  on  their  way  rejoicing  once  more  up  the  slopes 
of  the  mountain. 


I 


CHAPTER  IV 


ENTER  LINNET 


Lunch  on  the  summit  was  delicious  that  day,  and  the 
view  was  glorious.  But  when  they  returned  in  the  even- 
ing to  the  inn  at  St.  Valentin — that  was  the  name  of  their 
village — and  described  to  Andreas  Hausberger  how  an 
alp-girl  had  sung  for  them  in  a  mountain  hut,  the  zarth 
listened  to  the  description  with  a  depreciatory  smile,  and 
then  said  with  a  little  shrug :  "  Ah,  that  was  Philippina ; 
she  can't  do  very  much.  Her  high  notes  are  too  shrill. 
You  should  just  hear  Linnet !  " 

"  Is  Linnet  such  a  songstress  then  ?  "  Florian  cried,  with 
I  that  dubious  smile  of  his. 

The  wirth  looked  grave.  "  She  can  sing"  he  said, 
[pointedly.  His  dignity  was  hurt  by  the  young  man's  half- 
I  sceptical,  half-bantering  tone.  And  your  Tyroler  is  above 
jail  things  conservative  of  his  dignity. 

These  repeated  commendations  of  this  unknown  Lin- 
Inet,  however,  with  her  quaintly  pretty  un-German-sound- 
ling  name,  piqued  the  two  Englishmen's  curiosity  in  no 
[small  degree  as  to  her  personality  and  powers,  so  that 
when  the  zmrth  next  morning  announced  after  breakfast, 
[with  a  self-satisfied  smile,  "  Linnet's  coming  down  to-day," 
JFlorian  and  Will  looked  across  at  each  other  with  one  ac- 
icord,  and  exclaimed  in  unison,  "  Ah,  now  then,  we  shall 
Isee  her ! " 

And,  sure  enough,  about  five  o'clock  that  afternoon,  as 

|the  strangers  were  returning  from  a  long  stroll  on  the 

moded  heights  that  overhang  the  village,  they  came  un- 

[expectedly,  at  a  turn  of  the  mountain  footpath,  where  two 

[roads  ran  together,  upon  a  quaint  and  picturesque  Arca- 

[dian  procession.     A  long  string  of  patient  cows,  in  their 

:ream-colored  coats  of  all  Tyrolese  cattle,  wound  their 

^ay  with  cai'^.ious  steps  down  the  cobble-paved  zig-zags, 

tinkling  bell  hung  by  a  leather  belt  from  the  neck  of 

^ach;  garlands  of  wild  flowers  festooned  their  horns;  a 

31 


32 


LINNET 


group  of  peasant  children  assisted  at  the  rude  pageant. 
In  front  walked  a  boy,  with  a  wreath  slung  across  his 
right  shoulder  like  a  sash,  leading  the  foremost  cow  most 
unceremoniously  by  the  horns ;  the  rear  was  brought  up  by 
a  pretty  sunburnt  girl,  with  a  bunch  of  soft  pasque-flowers 
stuck  daintily  in  her  brown  haii ,  and  a  nosegay  of  bluebells 
peeping  coquettishly  out  of  her  full  round  bosom. 
Though  vigorous-looking  in  figure,  and  bronzed  in  face 
by  the  sun  and  the  open  air,  she  was  of  finer  mould  and 
more  delicate  fibre.  Will  saw  at  a  glance,  than  most  of  the 
common  peasant  women  in  that  workaday,  valley.  Her 
features  were  full  but  regular;  her  mouth,  though  large 
and  very  rich  in  the  lips  (as  is  often  the  case  with  sing- 
ers), was  yet  rosy  and  attractive;  her  eyes  were  full  of 
fire,  after  the  true  Tyrolese  fashion;  her  rounded  throat, 
just  then  trembling  with  song,  had  a  waxy  softness  of 
outline  in  its  curves  and  quivers  that  betrayed  in  a  moment 
a  deep  musical  nature.  For  she  was  singing  as  she  went, 
to  the  jingling  accompaniment  of  some  thirty  cow-bells; 
and  not  even  the  sweet  distraction  of  that  rustic  discord 
could  hide  from  Will  Deverill's  quick,  appreciative  ear  the 
fact  that  he  stood  here  face  to  face  with  a  vocalist  of  rare 
natural  gifts,  and  some  homespun  training. 

He  paused,  behind  the  wall,  as  the  procession  wound 
round  a  long  double  bend,  and  listened,  all  ears,  to  a  verse 
or  two  of  her  simple  but  exquisite  music. 

"  This  must  be  Linnet !  "  he  cried  at  last,  turning  ab- 
ruptly to  Florian. 

And  the  boy  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  now  opposite 
him  by  the  bond,  catching  at  the  general  drift  of  the  words 
with  real  Tyrolese  quickness,  called  out  with  a  loud  laugh 
to  the  singer  just  above :  "  Sagt  er,  das  musz  ja  Linnet 
seyn !  "  and  then  exploded  with  merriment  at  the  bare  idea 
that  the  Herrschaft  should  have  heard  the  name  and 
fame  of  his  companion. 

As  for  the  girl  herself,  surprised  and  taken  aback  at  this 
sudden  interruption,  she  stood  still  and  hesitated.  For  a 
moment  she  paused,  leaning  hard  on  the  long  stick  with 
which  she  guided  and  admonished  her  vagrant  cows ;  then 
she  looked  up  and  drew  a  long  breath,  looked  down  and 
blushed,  looked  up  once  more  and  smiled,  looked  down 
and  blushed  again.    They  had  overtaken  her  unawares 


ENTER  LINNET 


33 


where  the  paths  ran  together;  but  as  each  was  enclosed 
with  a  high  wall  of  granite  boulders,  overgrown  with 
brambles,  she  had  no  chance  of  perceiving  them  till  they 
were  close  upon  her.  She  broke  off  her  song  at  once,  and 
stood  crimson-faced  beside  them. 

"  Ah,  sing  again !  "  Florian  cried,  folding  two  dainty 
palms  in  a  rapture  on  his  breast,  and  putting  his  delicate 
hv^ad  on  one  side  in  a  transport  of  enchantment.  "  Why, 
Deverill,  how  she  sings !  what  a  linnet  indeed !  and  how 
pretty  she  is,  too!  For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  really 
regret  I  can't  speak  German ! " 

The  singer,  looking  up,  all  tremulous  to  have  overheard 
this  unfeigned  homage,  made  answer,  to  Florian's  equal 
delight  and  surprise,  "  I  can  speak  a  little  English." 

It  would  be  more  correct,  perhaps,  to  put  it  that  what 
she  actually  said,  was :  "  Ei  kann  schpiek  a  liddle 
Ennglisch  "  ;  but  Florian,  in  his  joy  that  any  means  of 
inter-communication  existed  between  them  at  all,  paid 
small  heed  at  the  time  to  these  slight  Teutonic  defects  in 
her  delivery  of  our  language. 

"  You  can  speak  English ! "  he  exclaimed,  overjoyed, 
for  it  would  have  been  a  real  calamity  to  him  to  find  a 
pretty  girl  in  the  place,  with  a  beautiful  voice,  and  he  un- 
able to  converse  in  any  known  tongue  with  her.  "  How 
delightful !  How  charming !  How  quite  too  unexpected ! 
I'm  so  glad  to  know  that!  For  had  it  been  otherwise,  I 
should  really  have  had  to  learn  German  to  talk  with  you !  " 

This  overstrained  compliment,  though  it  rose  quite 
naturally  to  Florian's  practiced  lips,  and  was  far  more 
genuine  than  a  great  deal  of  his  talk,  made  the  girl  blush 
and  stammer  with  extreme  embarrassment.  She  was  un- 
accustomed, indeed,  to  such  lavish  praise,  above  all  from 
the  gentlefolk.  Was  the  gnddige  Herr  making  fun  of  her, 
she  wondered?  She  grew  hot  and  uncomfortable.  For- 
tunately for  her  self-possession,  however,  Will  Deverill  in- 
tervened with  a  more  practical  remark.  "  You  speak  Eng- 
lish, do  you?  "  he  repeated.  "  That's  odd,  in  these  parts. 
One  would  hardly  have  thought  that !  How  did  you  come 
to  learn  it  ?  " 

"My  father  was  a  guide,"  the  girl  answered,  slowly, 
making  a  pause  at  each  word,  and  picking  her  way  with 
difficulty  through  the  insidious  pit-falls  of  British  pro- 


M 


34 


LINNET 


.!!ii 


nunciation.  (She  called  it  fahder.)  "He  taked  plenty 
Ennglish  gentlemen  up  the  mountains  before  time.  1 
learn  so  well  from  him,  as  also  from  many  of  the  Ennglish 
gentlemen.  Then,  too,  I  take  lesson  from'Herr  Haus- 
berger  in  winters,  and  from  English  young  lady  at  the 
farm  by  Martinsbrunn." 

Florian  gazed  at  his  companion  with  an  agonized  look 
of  mingled  alarm  and  horror.  "  Do  you  know  who  she 
means  ?  "  he  cried,  seizing  Will's  arm.  "  This  is  too,  too 
terrible!  The  girl  on  the  hillside  who  sticks  out  her 
tongue!  that  horrible  little  Cockney!  She'll  teach  this 
innocent  child  to  say  *  naow,'  and  '  lidy  '  !  At  last  I  feel 
I  have  a  mission  in  life.  We  must  save  her  from  this  fate! 
We  must  instruct  her  ourselves  in  pure  educated  Eng- 
lish ! " 

"  And  how  do  you  come  to  be  called  Linnet  ?  "  Will  in- 
quired with  some  interest,  a  new  light  breaking  in  upon 
him.  "  That's  surely  an  English  name.  Who  was  it  first 
called  you  so  ?  " 

"  An  Ennglish  gentleman  when  I  was  all  quite  small," 
the  girl  replied,  with  much  difficulty,  searching  her  phrases 
with  studious  care.  "  He  stop  at  my  father's  hut  on  our  alp 
many  nights — I  know  not  how  man  says  it — so  must  he  go 
up  the  mountains.  I  sing  to  him  often  when  he  come 
down  at  evening.  My  right  name  is  called  in  German, 
Lina;  but  the  gentleman,  says  he,  that  I  sing  like  a  bird. 
A  linnet,  that  is  in  Ennglish  a  singing-bird.  Therefore, 
Linnet  he  call  me.  The  name  please  my  father  much,  who 
make  a  great  deal  of  me ;  so  from  that  time  in  forwards, 
all  folk  in  the  village  call  me  also  Linnet." 

Will  broke  out  into  German.  "  They're  quite  right," 
he  said,  politely,  though  with  less  ecstasy  than  Florian; 
"  for  you  do  indeed  sing  like  a  real  song-bird.  I'm  so 
sorry  we  interrupted  you ;  pray  go  on  with  your  song 
again." 

But  Linnet  hung  her  head.  "  No,  no,"  she  answered, 
hastily,  in  her  own  native  tongue,  glad  to  find  he  spoke 
German.  "  I  didn't  know  I  was  overheard.  If  I'd  been 
singing  for  such  as  you,  I'd  not  have  chosen  a  little  coun- 
try song  like  that.  And  besides  " — she  broke  oflF  sudden- 
ly, with  a  coy  wave  of  her  brown  hand,  "  I  can't  sing  be- 
fore strangers  the  same  as  I  can  before  my  own  people." 


II  ) 


ENTER  LINNET 


35 


And  she  tapped  the  hindmost  heifer  with  her  rod  as  she 
spoke,  to  set  the  line  in  motion;  for  the  cows,  after  their 
kind,  had  taken  advantage  of  the  pause  to  put  down  their 
heads  to  the  ground,  and  browse  placidly  at  the  green 
weeds  that  bordered  the  wayside. 

At  one  touch  of  her  wand  the  bells  tinkled  once  more; 
the  long  string  got  under  way;  the  children  by  the 
side  recommenced  their  loud  shouts  of  rustic  merry-mak- 
ing. For  the  return  of  the  cows  from  the  alp  is  a  little 
festival  in  the  villages ;  it  ends  the  long  summer's  work  on 
the  mountain  side,  and  brings  back  the  unmarried  girls 
from  their  upland  exile  to  their  homes  in  the  valley.  Lin- 
net drove  her  herd  now,  however,  more  soberly  and  staid- 
ly. The  free  merriment  of  Arcadia  had  faded  out  of  'the 
ceremony.  One  touch  of  civilization  had  dispelled  the 
dream.  She  knew  she  was  observed ;  she  knew  the  two 
strangers  were  waiting  to  hear  if  she  would  trill  forth  her 
wild  song  ogain,  for  they  followed  close  at  her  heels,  talk- 
ing rapidly  jmong  themselves  in  their  ovn  language — 
so  rapidly,  indeed,  that  Linnet,  could  hardly  snatch  here 
and  there  by  the  way  a  single  word  of  their  earnest  con- 
versation. Once  or  twice  she  looked  back  at  them,  half- 
timidly,  lialf-provokingly. 

"  Sing  again !  "  Florian  cried,  clasping  his  hands  in  en- 
treaty. 

But  the  wayward  alp-girl  only  laughed  her  coy  refusal. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  in  her  patois,  with  a  little  shake  of 
her  beautiful  head ;  "  that  must  not  be  so.  I  sing  no  more 
now.  I  must  drive  home  my  cows.  They  are  tired  from 
the  mountains." 

"  But,  I  say,"  Florian  cried  at  last,  bursting  in  upon  his 
mountain  nymph  with  this  very  colloquial  and  unpoetic 
adjuration ;  "  look  here,  you  know,  Fraulein  Linnet,  you 
say  you  learn  English  from  our  landlord,  Herr  Haus- 
berger.     Now,  what  does  he  want  to  teach  you  for?  " 

Linnet  turned  round  to  him  with  a  naive  air  of  unaf- 
fected surprise.  "  Why,  when  he  teach  me  Ennglish 
songs,"  she  said,  "  I  will  know  what  mean  the  words. 
Also,  I  have  remembered  a  little — a  verv  little — since  the 
Ennglish  gentleman  teach  me  at  mv  father's.  Besides, 
too.  shall  I  not  need  it  when  I  go  to  England  ?  " 

"  Go  to  England  I  "  Florian  repeated,  all  amazed  at  the 


■n 
ill 


36 


LINNET 


frank  remark.  She  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  they 
must  know  all  her  plans.  *'  When  you  go  to  England ! 
Oh,  he  means  to  take  you  there,  then !  You're  one  of  his 
troupe,  I  suppose ;  or  you're  going  to  be  one." 

"  I  am  not  gone  away  yet,"  Linnet  answered,  not  a  little 
abashed  to  find  herself  the  center  of  so  much  unwonted 
interest ;  "  but  I  go  next  time ;  I  will  sing  with  his  band. 
All  summers,  I  stop  on  the  mountain  and  milk ;  with  the 
winter,  come  I  down  to  the  house  to  practise." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  say,"  Will  put  in,  in  German 
(it  was  easier  so  for  Linnet  to  answer  him),  "he  lets  a 
singer  like  you  live  out  by  herself  in  a  chalet  on  the  hills 
with  the  cows  all  summer  ?  " 

Linnet  held  up  her  hands,  palm  outward,  with  a  pretty 
little  gesture  of  polite  deprecation.  Her  movements  were 
always  naturally  graceful.  "  Why  not?  "  slin  caid,  bright- 
ly, in  German,  with  no  little  suppressed  merriment  at  his 
astonished  face.  "  That's  Andreas  Hausberger's  plan ; 
he  believes  in  that  way;  he  calls  it  his  system.  He  says 
we  Zillerthalers  owe  our  beautiful  voices — for  they  tell  us 
we  can  sing  a  great  deal  better  than  the  people  in  any  other 
valley  about — to  our  open-air  life  on  the  very  high  moun- 
tains. The  air  there  is  thin,  and  it  suits  our  throats,  he 
says."  She  clasped  her  hand  to  her  own  as  she  spoke,  that 
beautiful,  well-developed,  clear-toned  organ,  with  a  natural 
gesture  of  unconscious  reverence.  *'  It  develops  them — 
that's  his  word ;  he  believes  there's  nothing  like  it.  En- 
twickelung;  entwickelung!  I  get  more  good,  he  t'links, 
for  my  voice  in  the  summer  on  the  alp  than  I  get  f;  "n  nil 
my  lessons  in  the  winter  in  the  valley.  For  t'-'c  A\  ont 
itself  comes  first — that's  what  Andreas  holds — and  aj(  r- 
wards  the  teaching.  Not  for  worlds  would  he  let  me  miss 
my  summer  life  on  the  mountains." 

"  And  how  long  has  he  been  training  you  ?  "  Will  in- 
quired with  real  interest.  This  was  so  strange  a  page  of 
life  thus  laid  open  before  him. 

"  Oh,  for  years  and  years,  gnlidigc  Hcrr'*  Linnet  an- 
swered, shyly,  for  so  much  open  attention  on  the  younj^^ 
man's  part  made  her  awkwardly  self-conscious.  "  Ever 
since  my  father  died,  he  has  always  been  teaching  me." 

"  Has  your  father  been  dead  long?  "  Will  inquired. 

Linnet  crossed  herself  devoutly.    "  He  was  killed  eight 


ENTER  LINNET 


37 


years  ago  on  the  20th  of  August  last,"  she  said,  looking  up 
as  she  spoke  towards  the  forest-clad  mountains.  "  May 
Our  Dear  Lady  and  all  holy  saints  deliver  his  honored  soul 
from  the  fires  of  purgatory !  " 

"  But  your  mother's  alive  still,  I  suppose,  Fraulein," 
Florian  put  in  with  a  killing  smile ;  he  had  been  straining 
his  ears,  and  was  delighted  to  have  caught  the  general 
drift  of  the  conversation. 

"  Yes ;  thanks  to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  my  mother  live 
still,"  Linnet  answered  in  English.  "  And  I  keep  her 
comfortable,  as  for  a  widow  woman,  from  that  which 
Andreas  Hausberger  pay  me  for  the  summer,  as  also  for 
the  singing.  But  for  what,  mein  Herr,  do  you  make  to 
call  me  Fraulein?  Do  you  wish  to  rnock  at  me?  I  am 
only  an  alp-girl,  and  I  am  call  just  Linnet." 

She  flushed  as  she  spoke,  and  turned  hastily  to  Will. 
"  Tell  him,"  she  said  in  German,  with  an  impatient  little 
toss  of  one  hand  towards  Florian,  "  that  it  isn't  pretty  of 
him  to  make  fun  of  poor  peasant  girls  like  that.  Why 
does  he  call  me  such  names?  He  knows  very  well  I  am 
no  real  Fraulein." 

Florian  raised  his  hat  at  once  in  his  dimpled  small  hand, 
with  that  courtly  bow  and  smile  so  much  admired  in  Bond 
Street.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  with  more  truth  and  feel- 
ing than  was  usual  with  him ;  "  you  have  a  superb  voice ; 
with  a  gift  like  that,  you  are  a  Fraulein  indeed.  It  extorts 
our  homage.  Heaven  only  knows  to  what  height  it  may 
some  day  lead  you." 


m. 


r'M 


M 


CHAPTER  V 


THE    WIRTH  S    THEORY 


In  the  evening,  while  they  dined,  the  landlord  came  in  to 
see  how  they  fared,  and  wish  them  good  appetite :  'tis  the 
custom  with  distinguished  guests  in  the  Tyrol.  The 
moment  he  entered,  Florian,  all  agog,  attacked  him  at  once 
on  the  subject  of  their  wonderful  find  that  afternoon  on 
the  hillside.  "  Well,  Herr  Hausberger,"  he  cried  in  his 
high-flown  way,  "  we've  seen  and  heard  your  Linnet— 
heard  her  warbling  her  native  wood-notes  wild,  to  the  tune 
of  her  own  cow-bells  on  her  lonely  mountains.  Now 
what  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  turning  out  a  divine  singer  like 
that — I'm  a  musical  critic  myself,  and  I  know  what  I'm 
talking  about — what  do  you  mean  by  turning  her  out  to 
make  butter  and  cheese  in  a  solitary  hut  on  an  Alpine  pas- 
ture? It's  sheer  desecration,  I  tell  you — sheer  wicked 
desecration ;  there's  nothing,  almost,  that  girl  couldn't  do 
with  her  voice.  She's  a  genius — a  prodigy ;  §he  ought  to 
be  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fare  sumptuously 
every  day  on  champagne  and  turtle.  And  you,  sir — you 
send  her  up  to  herd  cows  all  alone,  in  an  inclement  clime, 
on  o  barren  hill-top !  " 

Andreas  Hausberger  gazed  at  him  with  a  self-contained 
smile  that  was  extremely  characteristic.  He  bowed  a  sar- 
castic bow  which  Florian  misinterpreted  for  polite  sub- 
servience. "  Are  you  running  this  show  or  am  I  ?  "  he 
asked,  after  a  fresh  pause,  with  a  quaint  reminiscence  of 
his  Western  experience. 

"  You  are,  undoubtedly,"  Florian  answered,  taken  aback 
at  this  unexpected  assiult.  "  But  you  ought  to  run  it,  all 
the  same,  on  rational  and  humane  and  intelligent  prin- 
ciples. You  owe  this  girl's  voice,  as  a  delight  and  a  treas- 
ure, to  US,  the  enlightened  and  critical  connoisseurs  of 
two  eager  continents.  Nature  produced  it  that  we  might 
enjoy  it.  It  was  intended  to  give  us  some  of  those  ex- 
quisite moments  of  artistic  pleasure  which  are  the  sole  ex- 

38 


THE  WIRTH'S  THEORY 


39 


cuse  creative  caprice  can  plead  for  the  manifold  defects  of 
the  Universe." 

Andreas  Hausberger  looked  down  at  him  with  a  half- 
pitying  curl  on  those  stern  thin  lips  of  his.  Florian  had  at- 
tacked him  lightly  where  his  position  was  strongest. 
"  That's  all  right,"  he  said,  slowly,  with  a  chilly  drawl — 
'twas  his  favorite  expression.  "  And  do  you  think  then," 
he  went  on,  bursting  forth  almost  scornfully,  in  spite  of  his 
outward  deference,  "  we  Zillerthalers  get  our  fine  singing 
voices  and  our  musical  ears  by  pure  chance  and  accident  ? 
Not  so,  you  may  be  sure  of  it.  It's  no  mere  coincidence 
that  our  men  and  women  can  almost  without  exception 
sing  like  birds  from  their  childhood  upwards  by  the  light 
of  Nature.  What  gives  them  this  power?  Why,  they 
live  their  lives  long,  in  summer  especially,  in  the  thin  clear 
atmosphere  of  our  higher  mountains.  There  isn't  much 
sour-stuff  in  it — what  do  you  call  it  in  English  ? — oh,  oxy- 
jren,  don't  you  Wal,  there  isn't  much  oxygen  in  that  thin 
upper  air — rarefied,  I  think  you  say — and  therefore  they're 
obliged  to  fill  their  lungs  well  and  expand  their  chests  " — 
he  swelled  himself  out  as  he  spoke,  and  showed  off  his 
own  splendid  girth  to  the  fullest  advantage — "  and  that 
gives  them  large  reservoirs  and  rich,  pure-toned  voices." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that  before,"  Will  Deverill  inter- 
posed, much  struck  by  the  landlord's  plausible  reasoning. 
"  I  suppose  that's  why  mountain  races,  like  the  Welsh  and 
the  Tyrolese,  are  so  often  musical.  The  rarefied  air  must 
tend  to  strengthen  and  develop  the  larynx." 

**  No ;  you  never  thought  of  that  before,"  Andreas 
Hausberger  echoed.  "  You  haven't  had  to  think  of  it. 
And  you  haven't  had  to  select  and  train  a  choir  of  our 
Tyrolese  peasants.  But  I  have  thought  of  it  for  years, 
and  satisfied  myself  it's  true.  Is  it  for  nothing,  do  you 
suppose,  that  on  our  cold  mountain  tops  the  vocal  chords, 
as  they  say,  are  braced  up  and  tightened  ?  Is  it  for  noth- 
ing that  in  that  clear,  pure,  limpid  air  the  very  nerves  of 
the  ear,  strained  hard  to  catch  quickly  at  distant  sounds, 
are  exercised  and  educated  Do  you  think,  if  I  wanted  to 
pick  out  voices  for  a  musical  troupe,  I  would  go  for  them 
to  Holland,  or  to  Lombardy,  or  to  Hamburg?  No,  no; 
I  would  go  right  away  to  the  griinde  there,  the  upper  forks 
of  the  Zillerthal,  in  the  crystal  air  just  below  the  glaciers, 


40 


LINNET 


W:^ 


and  pick  out  my  best  singers  from  the  cow-boys  and  the 
alp-girls." 

He  spoke  of  what  he  knew  and  had  long  reflected  upon. 
Acquaintance  with  his  subject  supplied  in  part  the  unim- 
portant deficiencies  of  his  English  vocabulary;  and,  be- 
sides, he  had  said  the  same  things  before  a  dozen  times 
over,  to  other  English  travelers. 

"  Perhaps  you  may  be  right,"  Florian  responded,  bland- 
ly, as  the  wirth  paused  for  breath  in  his  eager  harangue. 
It  was  a  way  of  Florian's  to  be  bland  when  he  saw  he  was 
getting  the  worst  of  an  argument. 

"  Right ! "  Andreas  Hausberger  rep'eated.  "  Never 
mind  about  that !  You'd  know  I  was  right  if  only  you'd 
seen  as  much  of  these  people  as  I  have.  Look  here,  Mr. 
Wood,  you  say  it's  desecration  to  send  a  girl  like  Linnet 
after  butter  and  cheese  in  a  sennerin's  hut  on  the  lonely 
mountains.  You  say  I  owe  her  voice  as  a  treasure  to  hu- 
manity. Wal,  I  acknowledge  the  debt,  and  I  try  to  dis- 
charge it  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  send  her  to  the  hills 
— the  free  open  hills — where  she  will  breathe  fresh  air, 
develop  her  throat  and  lungs,  eat  wholesome  food,  grow 
strong  and  brown  and  hearty.  If  I  clothed  her  in  purple 
and  fine  linen,  as  you  wish,  and  fed  her  every  day  on 
champagne  and  turtle,  do  you  really  imagine  I'd  be  doing 
her  a  t,ood  turn?  I'd  be  ruining  her  voice  for  her.  In 
the  summer,  she  gains  breath  and  good  health  on  the 
grassy  mountains ;  in  the  winter,  she  gets  training  and  ad- 
vice and  assistance  from  Lindner  and  myself  and  what- 
ever other  teachers  we  can  find  in  the  Zillerthal." 

"  I  surrender  at  discretion,"  Florian  answered,  with  a 
yawn,  rising  up  and  flinging  his  small  person  lazily  on  the 
home-made  sofa.  "  I  admit  your  contention.  You  in- 
terest me  strangely.  Your  peasants  and  your  country 
girls  have  finely  developed  ears  and  capital  voices.  No 
doubt  you're  correct  in  attributing  these  splendid  gifts  to 
the  clearness  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  wild  life  of  the 
mountains.  I'm  a  musical  critic  in  London  myself,  and  I 
know  what  a  voice  is  the  moment  I  hear  it.  Indeed,  after 
all,  what  does  it  matter  in  the  end  if  these  divine  creatures 
spend  a  joyless  life  for  years  in  sordid  and  squalid  sur- 
roundings, provided  only,  when  they  burst  forth  at  last  in 
^he  full  effulgence  of  their  musical  prime,  they  afford  us^ 


THE  WIRTH'S  THEORY 


41 


who  can  appreciate  them,  and  for  whose  sake  they  exist, 
one  vivid  thrill  of  pure  artistic  enjoyment?"  And  he 
stroked  his  ou^n  smooth  and  girlish  cheek  with  one  plump 
hand,  lovingly. 

"  You're  a  musical  critic,  are  you  ? "  Andreas  Haus- 
berger  repeated,  with  marked  interest,  disregarding  the 
last  i?\v  words  of  Florian's  flowing  rhapsody.  "  Then 
you  shall  hear  Linnet  sing.  You  can  say  after  that 
whether  I'm  right  in  my  system  or  not."  He  opened  the 
dcor  hastily.  "  Linnet,  Linnet,"  he  called  out  in  the 
Tyrolese  dialect,  "  come  in  here  at  once.  I  want  the 
Herrschaft  to  hear  you  singing." 

For  a  minute  after  he  spoke,  there  was  a  flutter  and  a 
rustling  at  the  door  outside ;  somebody  seemed  to  be  push- 
ing some  unwilling  person  bit  by  bit  along  the  passage.  A 
murmur  of  whispered  voices  in  the  local  dialect  floated 
faintly  to  Will's  ears.  "  You  must !  "  "  But  I  can't." 
"You  shall!"  "I  won't."  "He  says  you  are  to." 
"  Ah,  no ;  I'm  ashamed !     Not  before  those  gentlemen !  " 

In  the  end,  as  it  seemed,  the  first  voice  had  its  way. 
The  door  opened  brusquely,  and  Linnet,  all  trembling,  her 
face  in  her  hands,  and  crimson  with  shame,  was  pushed 
bodily  forward  by  unseen  arms  into  the  stranger's  pres- 
ence. For  a  moment  she  stood  there  like  a  frightened 
child.  Will's  cheek  burned  hot  with  sympathetic  tingling. 
Florian  leaned  back  philosophically  as  he  lay,  and  regarded 
this  pretty  picture  of  beauty  in  distress  with  observant 
complacency.  She  was  charming,  so,  to  be  sure!  That 
red  flush  became  her. 

"  Sing  to  the  gentlemen,"  Andreas  Hausberger  said, 
calmly,  in  a  tone  of  command.  "  Take  your  hands  from 
vour  face  at  once ;  don't  behave  like  a  baby." 

He  spoke  in  German,  but  Florian  followed  him  all  the 
same.  'Twas  delicious  to  watch  this  pretty  little  comedy 
of  rustic  ingenuousness. 

"  Oh,  I  can't !  "  Linnet  cried,  all  abashed,  removing  her 
hands  for  a  second  from  her  burning  cheeks,  and  clasping 
them  hard  on  her  throbbing  breast  for  one  fiery  moment 
before  she  clapped  them  up  hastilv  again.  "  To  bid  one 
like  this !    It's  so  hard !    It's  so  dreadful !  " 

"  Don't  ask  her  just  now,"  Will  Deverill  put  in  plead- 
ingly.   "  On^  can  see  sh?  has  such  a  natural  shrinking  and 


42 


LINNET 


{I ' 
il    I 


disclination  at  first.  Some  other  night,  perhaps.  When 
we've  been  here  a  Httle  longer,  she  may  be  less  afraid  of 
us." 

Linnet  let  her  hand  drop  once  more,  and  gave  him  a 
grateful  glance,  sidling  away  towards  the  door  like  a  timid 
child  in  her  misery.  But  Andreas  Hausberger,  for  his 
part,  was  not  so  to  be  put  off.  "  No,  no,"  he  said,  sternly, 
fixing  his  eye  with  a  determined  gaze  on  the  poor  shrink- 
ing girl ;  "  she  must  sing  if  I  tell  her  to.  That's  all  right. 
This  shyness  is  absurd.  How  can  she  ever  appear  on  a 
platform,  I  should  like  to  know,  before  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred people,  if  she  won't  sing  here  when  she's  told  before 
just  you  two  Englishmen?  Do  as  I  bid  you,  Linnet!  No 
nonsense,  my  girl !  Stand  here  by  the  table,  and  gwe  us 
*  The  Bride  of  Hinter-Dux.'  " 

Thus  authoritatively  commanded,  poor  Linnet  took  her 
stand  where  Andreas  Hausberger  motioned  her,  steadied 
herself  with  one  trembling  little  fist  on  the  edge  of  the 
table,  raised  her  eyes  to  the  ceiling  away  from  the  two 
young  men,  and,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  with  her  throat 
held  out  and  her  mouth  opened  tremulously,  b^gan  to  trill 
forth,  in  her  rich,  silvery  voice,  a  deep  bell-like  song  of 
her  own  native  mountain.  For  the  first  minute  or  two  she 
was  nervous,  and  quivered  and  paused  unduly;  after  a- 
while,  however,  inborn  artistic  instinct  overcame  her 
nervousness :  she  let  her  eyes  drop  and  rest  in  a  flash  once 
or  twice  on  Will  Deverill's.  They  were  kindly  eyes, 
Will's;  they  reassured  and  encouraged  her.  "Bravo!" 
they  seemed  to  say ;  "  you're  rendering  it  admirably." 
Emboldened  by  his  friendly  glance,  she  took  heart  and 
went  through  with  it.  Towards  the  end,  her  courage  and 
self-possession  returned,  for,  like  all  Tyrolese,  she  was 
brave  and  self-reliant  in  her  inmost  soul,  though  shy  at 
first  sight,  and  bashful  on  the  surface.  The  two  last  stan- 
zas she  sang  to  perfection.  As  she  finished,  Will  looked 
up  and  said  simply,  "  Thank  you ;  that  was  beautiful,  beau- 
tiful." But  Florian  clapped  his  hands  in  obtrusive  ap- 
plause. "  Well  done !  "  he  cried ;  "  well  done !  you  have 
given  us  such  a  treat.  We  can  forgive  Herr  Hausberger 
now  for  insisting  on  a  performance." 

"  And  you  must  accustom  yourself  to  an  audience,"  the 
wirth  said  in  German,  with  that  same  quiet  air  of  iron 


THE  WIRTH'S  THEORY 


43 


resolution  Will  had  already  marked  in  him.  '"  li  ever 
you're  to  face  a  whole  roomful  of  people,  you  must  be  able 
first  to  come  in  upon  the  platform  without  all  this  silly  fuss 
and  hang-back  nonsense." 

Linnet's  nostrils  quivered.  Slie  steadied  herself  with 
her  hand  on  the  table  once  more,  and  made  answer  boldly, 
"  I  think  I  could  more  easily  face  a  roomful  of  people  I'd 
never  seen  than  sing  before  two  in  the  parlor  of  the  inn 
here;  that  seems  less  personal.  But,"  she  added  shyly, 
with  half  an  appealing  glance  towards  Will,  "  I'm  not  so 
nervous  now.  If  this  gentleman  wishes,  I — I  would  sing 
another  song  to  him  ?  " 

And  so  she  did — a  second  and  a  third.  As  she  went  on, 
she  grew  braver,  and  sang  each  time  more  naturally.  At 
last  the  zinyth  dismissed  her.  Linnet  curtsied,  and  disap- 
peared, *'  Well,  what  do  you  say  to  her  now  ?  "  the  land- 
lord asked  in  a  tone  of  triumph,  turning  round  to  the 
young  men  as  the  door  closed  behind  her. 

Florian  assumed  his  most  studiously  judicial  air.  The 
perfect  critic  should,  above  all  things,  be  critical.  Before 
Linnet's  face,  indeed,  he  had  been  enthusiastic  enough,  as 
politeness  and  due  respect  for  her  sex  demanded;  ^ut  be- 
hind her  back,  and  in  her  teacher's  presence,  regard  lor  his 
reputation  compelled  him  to  adopt  the  severest  tone  of  in- 
corruptible impartiality.  "  I  think,"  he  said  slowly, 
fingering  his  chin  in  or. 2  hand,  and  speaking  with  great 
deliberation,  like  a  recognized  authority,  "  with  time  and 
training  she  ought  to  serve  your  purpose  well  for  popular 
entertainments.  Her  organ,  though  undeveloped,  is  not 
wholly  without  some  natural  power  and  compass." 

"  And  /  think,"  Will  Deverill  added,  with  a  glow  of 
generous  enthusiasm,  "  you've  lighted  on  one  of  the  very 
finest  voices  in  all  Europe." 


^W' 


'      mI    lllll'l:! 


iiii! 


liSm 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE   ROBBLER 


A  DAY  or  two  passed,  and  the  young  men  from  time  to 
time  saw,  by  glimpses  and  snatches,  a  good  deal  of  Linnet. 
For  now  the  summer  season  on  the  hills  was  over,  and  the 
cows  had  come  back  to  their  stall-fed  existence,  the  musi- 
cal alp-girl  had  leisure  on  her  hands  for  household  duties. 
In  the  morning  she  helped  in  the  general  work  of  the  inn ; 
in  the  afternoon  she  practiced  much  in  the  parlor  upstairs 
with  Andreas  Hausberger  and  his  little  company.  But 
in  the  evenings, — ah,  then,  the  landlord  brought  her  in 
more  than  once,  by  special  request,  to  sing  her  native 
songs  to  Will  Deverill's  accompaniment  on  the  lame  old 
fiddle  from  the  corner  cupboard.  Those  were  pleasant 
meetings  enough.  Gradually  the  mountain  lass  grew  less 
afraid  of  the  strangers;  she  talked  German  more  freely 
with  Will  Deverill  now,  and  considerably  enlarged  her 
English  vocabulary  by  listening  to  Florian's  richly-worded 
harangues  on  men,  women,  and  things,  and  the  musical 
glasses.  It  surprised  Florian  not  a  little,  however,  to  see 
that  this  child  of  Nature,  unlike  the  ladies  of  culture  in 
London  drawing-rooms,  positively  preferred  Will's  society 
to  his  own,  if  such  a  fact  seems  credible;  though  he  ex- 
plained away  in  part  this  unaccountable  defect  of  taste  and 
instinct  in  one  female  heart  by  the  reflection  that,  after  all, 
Will  was  able  to  converse  with  her  in  her  own  language. 
His  own  finer  points  she  could  hardly  understand;  his 
words  were  too  deep,  his  thoughts  were  too  high  for  her. 
Still,  it  annoyed  him  that  even  an  unsophisticated  alp-girl 
should  display  so  singular  and  so  marked  a  predilection  for 
any  other  man  when  he  was  present.  Indeed,  he  half  made 
up  his  mind,  irksome  as  he  felt  sure  the  task  would  prove, 
to  learn  German  at  once,  as  a  safeguard  against  so 
humiliating  a  contretemps  in  future. 
In  the  early  part  of  the  next  week,  Will  proposed  one 

44 


THE  ROBBLER 


45 


day  they  should  mount  the  hills  behind  St.  Valentin,  in 
search  of  a  rare  fern  he  was  anxious  to  secure  before  the 
snows  of  winter.  Andreas  Hausberger,  nodding  his  head, 
had  heard  of  it  before.  It  was  a  well-known  rarity;  all 
botanists  who  came  to  the  Zillerthal,  he  said,  were  sure  to 
go  in  search  of  it.  "  But  I'm  r^L  a  botanist,"  Will  burst 
out  deprecatingly,  for  to  admit  that  fell  impeachment  is 
to  number  yourself  outright  in  the  dismal  roll  of  scientific 
Dryasdusts ;  "  I  only  want  the  plants  because  I  love  them." 

"  That's  all  right,"  Andreas  answered,  in  his  accus- 
tomed phrase."  "  You  want  the  plant,  anyway.  That's 
the  chief  thing,  ain't  it?  Wal,  there's  only  one  place 
any^vhere  about  St.  Valentin  that  it  ever  grows,  and  that's 
the  Tuxerloch  ;  without  somebody  to  guide  you  there  you'd 
never  find  it." 

"  Oh,  I  won't  have  a  guide,"  Will  responded,  hastily. 
"  I  hate  to  be  guided.  It's  too  ignominious.  If  I  can't 
find  my  own  way  about  low  mountains  like  these,  in  the 
forest  region,  I'd  prefer  to  lose  it;  and  I  certainly  won't 
pay  a  man  to  show  me  where  the  fern  is." 

"  Certainly  not,"  the  ivirth  answered,  with  true  Tyro- 
lese  thrift.  "  I  didn't  mean  that.  Why  waste  your  money 
on  one  of  the  regular  guides,  who  charge  you  five  florins 
for  eating  half  your  lunch  for  you?  But  Linnet  knows 
the  way  as  well  as  any  trained  guide  of  them.  It's  not  a 
hard  road ;  she'll  go  along  with  you  and  show  you  it." 

"  Oh,  dear  no,"  Will  replied,  with  a  little  hurried  em- 
barrassment, for  he  felt  it  would  be  awkward  lO  be  thrown 
all  day  into  the  society  of  a  young  girl  in  so  equivocal  a 
position.  *'  I'm  sure  we  can  find  the  way  all  right  our- 
selves. There  are  wood-cutters  on  the  hills  we  can  ask 
about  the  path ;  and  if  it  comes  to  that,  I  really  don't  mind 
whether  I  find  it  or  not — it's  only  by  way  of  goal  for  a 
day's  expedition." 

Andreas  Hausberger,  however,  was  an  imperious  soul. 
"  Linnet  shall  go,"  he  said,  shortly,  without  making  more 
words  about  it.  "  She  has  nothing  else  to  do.  It's  bad 
for  her  to  be  cooped  up  in  the  house  too  much.  A  long 
walk  on  the  hills  will  be  no  end  of  good  for  her.  That's 
what  I  always  say ;  when  young  women  come  down  from 
the  mountains  in  winter,  they  do  themselves  harm  by 
changing  their  mode  of  life  fill  at  once  too  suddenly,  and 


11 

■,i'', 
1, 

1 

ii-i 

!|:: 

i:!^;i' 

i 

I!  II!!  I 


I;!  i!iiiiai,!:i!:i!i: 


'iilliiiiiiii 


i'ii'lii!^:  .' 


iiiiii 


46 


LINNET 


living  in  close  rooms  without  half  the  exercise  they  used 
to  take  on  the  alp  with  their  milking  and  churning." 

So,  whether  they  would  or  not,  the  two  young  men  were 
compelled,  in  the  end  to  put  up  as  best  they  might  with 
Linnet's  guidance  and  company.  No  great  hardsliip 
either.  Will  thought  to  himself,  as  Linnet,  bare-headed, 
but  in  her  Sunday  best,  led  the  way  up  the  green  slopes  be- 
hind the  village  inn,  with  the  bounding  gait  of  a  holiday 
alp-girl.  As  to  Florian,  his  soul  was  in  the  seventh  heav- 
ens. To  see  that  Oread's  light  foot  trip  gracefully  over  the 
lawns  was  to  him  pure  joy — a  stray  iDreath  of  Hellas. 
What  Hellas  was  like,  to  be  sure — the  arid  Hellas  of  reality 
— with  its  dusty  dry  hills  and  its  basking  rocks,  Florian 
had  not  in  his  own  soul  the  very  faintest  conception.  But 
still,  the  Hellenic  ideal  was  none  the  less  near  and  dear 
to  him.  From  stray  scraps  of  Theocritus  and  his  inner 
consciousness  he  had  constructed  for  himself  an  Arcadia 
of  quite  Alpine  greenness,  and  had  peopled  it  with  lithe 
maidens  c  f  uncircumscribed  affections,  "^^o,  whenever  he 
wanted  to  give  anything  in  heaven  or  h  the  highest 
praise  in  his  power,  he  observed  with  »  ..inocent  smile 
that  it  was  utterly  Hellenic. 

Linnet  led  them  on,  talking  unaffectedly  as  she  went,  by 
long  ridge-like  spurs,  up  vague  trails,  through  the  woods, 
and  over  spongy  pastures.  As  elsewhere  on  their  walks. 
Florian  noted  here  and  there  little  white-washed  shrines  at 
every  turn  of  the  road,  and  endless  rude  crucifixes  where 
ghastly  white  limbs  seemed  to  writhe  and  struggle  in 
realistic  torture.  Of  a  sudden,  by  one  of  these,  Linnet 
dropped  on  her  knees-r-all  at  once  without  a  word  of  warn- 
ing; she  dropped  as  if  mechanically,  her  lips  moving  mean- 
while in  muttered  prayer.  F'lorian  gazed  at  her  curiously; 
Will  stood  by  expectant,  in  a  reverent  and  mutely  sympa- 
thetic attitude.  For  some  minutes  the  girl  knelt  there, 
murmuring  low  to  herself.  As  she  rose  from  her  knees, 
she  turned  gravely  to  Will.  "  Here  my  father  has  died," 
she  said,  with  a  solemn  slowmess  in  her  broken  English. 
"  He  has  slipped  from  that  rock.  The  fall  has  killed  him. 
Will  you  say,  for  his  soul's  repose,  before  you  go,  a  Vater- 
unser?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  pleadingly,  as  if  she  thought  the 


THE  ROBBLER 


47 


prayers  of  so  great  a  gentleman  must  carry  weight  of  their 
own  in  Our  Lady's  councils.  With  infinite  gentleness,  Will 
bowed  his  head  in  acquiescence,  and,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  not  to  hurt  her  feelings,  dropped  on  his  knees 
himself  and  bent  his  neck  in  silent  prayer  before  the 
tawdry  little  oratory.  It  was  one  of  those  rough  shrines, 
painted  by  unskilled  fingers,  where  naked  souls  in  rude 
flames  of  purgatory  plead  for  aid  with  clasped  hands  and 
outstretched  arms  to  placidly  unheeding  blue-robed 
Madonnas.  Underneath,  an  inscription,  with  N's  turned 
the  wrong  way,  and  capitals  mixed  with  smaller  letters,  in- 
formed the  passer-by  that,  "  Here,  on  the  20th  of  August 
188 — ,  the  virtuous  guide  and  experienced  woodcutter, 
Josef  Telser  of  St.  Valentin,  perished  by  a  fall  from  a  slip- 
pery rock  during  a  dangerous  thunderstorm.  The  pious 
wanderer  is  hereby  implored  to  say  three  Paternosters, 
of  his  charitable  good-will,  to  redeem  a  tortured  soul  from 
the  fires  of  purgatory." 

Will  knelt  there  for  a  minute  or  two,  muttering  the 
Paternosters  out  of  pure  consideration  for  Linnet's  sen- 
sitive feelings.  When  he  rose  from  his  knees  again,  he 
saw  the  girl  herself  had  moved  oflf  a  little  way  to  pick  a 
few  bright  ragworts  and  Michaelmas  daisies  that  still 
lingered  on  these  bare  heights,  for  a  bouquet  to  lay  before 
the  shrine  of  Our  Lady.  Like  all  her  countrywomen,  she 
was  profoundly  religious — or,  if  you  choose  to  put  it  so, 
profoundly  superstitious.  ('Tis  the  point  of  view  alone 
that  makes  all  the  difference.)  Florian,  a  little  apart,  with 
his  hand  on  his  cheek  and  his  head  on  one  side,  eyed  the 
oratory  sentimentally.  "  How  sweet  it  is,"  he  said,  after  a 
pause,  with  an  expansive  smile,  "  to  see  this  poor  child, 
with  her  childlike  faith,  thus  throwing  herself  on  her  knees 
in  filial  submission  before  her  father's  cenotaph!  How 
delightful  is  the  sentiment  that  prompts  such  respect  for 
the  memory  of  the  dead!  How  eloquent  must  be  the 
words  of  her  simple  colophon !  "  Florian  was  iond  of 
colophons ;  he  didn't  know  what  they  were,  but  he  always 
thought  them  so  very  Hellenic ! 

Will's  face  was  graver.  With  one  finger  he  pointed  to 
the  uncompromising  flames  of  that  most  material  purg;a- 
tory.    "  Pm  afraid,"  he  said,  seriously,  "  to  her,  poor  child, 


Iliii 


48 


LINNET 


lilili, 

IIHIiiiilli 

I 
I 


I, 


11!!i,,j!I| 


I 


this  act  cf  worship  envisages  itself  in  a  very  different  fash- 
ion. She  prays  to  hasten  the  escape  of  her  father's  soul 
from  what  she  takes  to  be  a  place  of  very  genuine  torture." 

Florian  looked  closer.  As  yet,  he  had  never  observed 
the  subsidiary  episode  of  the  spirits  in  their  throes  of  fiery 
torment,  which  forms  a  component  part  of  all  these  way- 
side oratories.  He  inspected  the  rude  design  with  d'stant 
philosopiiical  interest.  "  This  is  quaint,"  he  said,  "  most 
quaint.  I  admire  its  art  immensely.  The  point  about  it 
all  that  particularly  appeals  to  me  is  the  charming  superi- 
ority of  Our  Lady's  calm  soul  to  the  essentially  modern 
vice  of  pity.  There  she  sits  on  her  throne,  unswerved 
and  unswerving,  not  even  deigning  to  contemplate  with 
that  marked  squint  in  her  eye  the  extremely  unpleasant 
and  uncomfortable  position  of  her  petitioners  beneath  her. 
I  admire  it  very  much.     I  find  it  qjiite  Etruscan." 

'*  To  you  :  nd  me — yes,  quaint — nothing  more  than 
that,"  Will  responded,  soberly ;  "  but  to  Linnet,  it's  all 
real — fire,  flames,  and  torments ;  she  believes  what  she 
sees  there." 

As  he  spoke,  the  girl  came  back,  with  her  nosegay  in 
her  hand,  and,  tying  it  round  with  a  thread  from  a  little 
roll  in  her  pocket,  laid  it  reverently  on  the  shrine  with  a 
very  low  obeisance.  "  You  see,"  she  said  to  Will,  speak- 
ing in  English  once  more,  for  Andreas  Hausberger  wished 
her  to  take  advantage  of  this  unusual  opportunity  for  ac- 
quiring the  language,  "  my  poor  father  is  killed  in  the  mid- 
dle of  his  sins ;  he  falls  from  the  rock  and  is  taken  up 
dead  ;  there  is  no  priest  close  by ;  he  has  not  confessed ;  he 
has  not  had  absolution ;  he  has  no  viaticum ;  no  oil  to 
anoint  him.  That  makes  it  that  he  must  go  straight  down 
cO  purgatory."  And  she  clasped  her  hands  as  she  spoke 
In  very  genuine  sympathy. 

"  Then  all  these  shrines,"  Florian  said,  looking  up  a  lit- 
tle surprised,  "  are  they  all  of  them  where  somebody  has 
been  killed  by  accident  ?  " 

"  The  most  of  them,"  Linnet  answered,  as  who  should 
say  of  course;  "  so  many  of  our  people  are  that  way  killed, 
you  see ;  it  is  thunderstorms,  or  snow-slides,  or  trees  that 
fall,  or  floods  on  rivers,  things  that  I  cannot  say,  for  I 
know  not  the  names  how  to  speak  them  in  English.  And, 
as  no  priest  is  by,  so  shall  they  go  to  purgatory.     For 


THE  ROBBLER 


49 


that,  we  make  shrines  to  release  them  from  their  tor- 
ments." 

They  had  gone  on  their  way  by  this  time,  and  reached  a 
corner  of  the  path  where  it  turned  abruptly  in  zig-zags 
round  a  great  rocky  precipice.  Just  as  they  drew  abreast 
of  it,  and  were  passing  the  corner,  a  young  man  came  sud- 
denly on  them  from  the  opposite  direction.  He  was  a 
fiery  young  man,  dressed  in  the  native  Tyrolese  costume 
of  real  life ;  his  hand  held  a  rifle ;  his  conical  hat  was  gaily 
decked  behind,  like  most  of  his  countrymen's,  with  a 
blackcock's  feather.  The  stranger's  mien  was  bold — nay, 
saucy  and  defiant.  He  looked  every  inch  a  typical  Alpine 
jiiger.  As  he  confronted  them  he  paused,  and  glared  for 
a  moment  at  Linnet.  Next  instant  he  raised  his  hat  with 
half-sarcastic  politeness ;  then,  in  a  very  rapid  voice,  he 
said  something  to  their  companion  in  a  patois  so  pro- 
nounced that  Will  Deverill  himself,  familiar  as  he  was 
with  land  and  people,  could  make  nothing  out  of  it.  But 
Linnet,  unabashed,  answered  him  back  once  or  twice  in 
the  same  uncouth  dialect.  Their  colloquy  grew  warm. 
The  stranger  seemed  angry ;  he  waved  his  hand  toward  the 
Englishmen,  and  appeared,  as  Will  judged,  to  be  asking 
their  pretty  guide  what  she  d'd  in  such  company.  As  for 
Linnet,  her  answers  were,  evidently  of  the  sort  which 
turneth  away  wrath,  though  on  this  hot-headed  young 
man  they  were  ineffectually  bestowef^  He  stamped  his 
foot  once  or  twice;  then  he  turned  to  Will  Deverill. 

"Who  sent  you  out  with  the  scn\erin?"  he  asked, 
haughtily,  ir.  good  German. 

Will  answered  him  back  with  calm  but  cold  politeness. 
"  Herr  Hausberger,  our  wirth,"  he  said,  "  asked  the 
Fraulein  to  accompany  us,  as  she  knew  the  place  where  a 
certain  fern  I  wished  to  find  on  the  hills  war.  growing." 

"  I  know  where  it  grows  myself,"  the  j'dgcr  replied,  with 
a  defiant  air.  "  Let  her  go  back  to  the  inn ;  it  is  far  for 
her  to  walk.     I  can  show  you  the  way  to  it." 

"  Certainly  not,"  Will  retorted,  in  moi>t  decided  tones. 
"The  Fraulein  has  been  good  enough  to  accompany  us 
thus  far:  I  can't  allow  her  now  to  go  back  alone  to  the 
village." 

"  She's  used  to  it."  the  man  said,  grufifly,  with  half  a 
sneer,  his  fingers  twitching. 


\  t 


I  ll> 


50 


LINNET 


"  That  may  be,"  Will  retorted,  with  quiet  self-posses- 
sion ;  "  but  I'm  not  used  to  allowing  her  to  do  so." 

For  a  minute  the  stranger  put  one  sturdy  foot  forward, 
held  his  head  haughtily,  with  his  hat  on  one  side,  and  half 
lifted  his  fist,  as  if  inclined  to  rush  forthwith  upon  the  of- 
fending Englishman,  and  settle  the  question  between  them 
then  and  there  by  open  violence.  But  Linnet,  biting  her 
lip  and  knitting  her  brow  in  suspense,  rushed  in  to  separate 
them.  "  Take  care  what  you  do,"  she  cried  hurriedly  in 
English  to  Will.  "  Don't  let  him  strike.  Stand  away 
of  him.     He's  a  Robbie. !  " 

"  A  what?  "  Will  replied,  half  smiling  at  her  eagerness 
for  he  was  not  at  all  alarmed  himself  by  her  truculent  fel- 
low-countryman. 

"  A  Robbler,"  Linnet  repeated,  looking  up  at  him  plead- 
ingly. "  You  know  not  what  that  is  ?  Then  will  I  tell 
you  quickly.  The  feather  in  his  hat,  it  is  turned  the 
wrong  way.  When  a  Tyrolese  does  so,  he  wills  thereby  to 
say  he  will  make  himself  a  Robbler.  Therefore,  if  any  one 
speaks  angry  to  him,  it  is  known  he  will  strike  back.  It 
is — I  cannot  say  what  it  means  in  English,  but  it  invites 
to  fight;  it  is  the  sign  of  a  challenge." 

"  Well,  Robbler  or  no  Robbler,  I'm  not  afraid  of  him," 
Will  answered,  with  quiet  determination ;  "  and  if  he  zvill 
fight,  why,  of  course,  he  must  take  what  he  gets  for  it." 

"  Perhaps,"  Linnet  said,  simply,  gazing  back  at  him, 
much  surprised,  "  in  your  own  country  you  are  also  a 
Robbler." 

The  naivete  of  her  remark  made  Will  laugh  in  spite  of 
himself.  That  laugh  saved  bloodshed.  The  Tyrolese,  on 
his  part,  seeing  the  absurdity  of  the  situation  all  at  once, 
broke  into  a  smile  himself;  and,  with  that  unlucky  smile. 
his  sole  claim  to  Robblerhood  vanished  incontinently. 
Linnet  saw  her  advantage.  In  a  moment,  she  had  poured 
into  the  young  man's  ear  a  perfect  flood  of  explanatory 
eloquence  in  their  native  dialect.  Gradually  the  Robbler's 
defiant  attitude  relaxed ;  his  face  grew  calmer ;  he  accepted 
her  account.  Then  he  turned  to  Will  with  a  more  molli- 
fied manner :  **  You  may  go  on,"  he  said,  graciously,  with 
a  regal  nod  of  his  head ;  "  I  allow  the  sennerin  to  continue 
her  way  with  you." 

As  for  Will,  he  felt  half  inclined,  at  first,  to  resent  the 


IP 


THE  ROBBLER 


51 


•■!  i 


lordly  air  of  the  Robbler's  concession.  On  second 
thoughts,  however,  for  Linnet's  sake,  in  his  ignorance  of 
who  the  young  man  might  be,  and  the  nature  of  his  claim 
upon  her,  he  judged  it  better  to  avoid  any  quarrel  of  any 
sort  with  a  native  of  the  valley.  So  he  raised  his  hat 
courteously,  and  let  the  stranger  depart,  with  a  very  bad 
grace,  along  the  road  to  the  village. 

"  What  did  you  tell  him  ?  "  he  asked  of  Linnet,  as  the 
Robbler  went  his  way,  singing  defiantly  to  himself,  down 
the  grassy  zig-zag. 

"  Oh,  I  told  him,"  Linnet  answered,  with  a  little  flush 
of  excitement,  "  Andreas  Hausberger  had  sent  me  that 
you  might  teach  me  English." 

"  Is  he  your  brother  ?  "  Will  asked,  not  that  he  thought 
that  likely,  but  because  it  was  less  pointed  than  if  he  had 
asked  her  outright,  "  Is  this  young  man  your  lover  ? " 

Linnet  shook  her  head.  "  Ah,  no,"  she  answered,  with 
a  very  decided  air ;  "  he's  nothing  at  all  to  me — not  even 
my  friend.  I  do  not  so  much  as  care  for  him.  He's  only 
Franz  Lindner.  But  then,  he  was  jealous  because  he  see 
that  I  walk  with  you.  He  has  no  right  of  that ;  I  am  not 
anything  to  him ;  yet  still  he  must  be  jealous  if  somebody 
speak  to  me.  It  is  because  he  is  a  Robbler,  and  must  do 
like  that.  A  Robbler  shall  always  fight  if  any  man  shall 
walk  or  talk  with  this  maiden.  Though  I  am  not  his  maid- 
en, but  he  would  have  me  to  be  it.  So  will  he  fight  with 
anyone  who  shall  walk  or  talk  with  me.  But  when  I  tell 
him  Andreas  Hausberger  send  me  that  I  may  learn  Eng- 
lish, then  he  go  away  quietly.  For  Franz  Lindner,  or 
any  other  Robbler,  will  not  fight  with  a  stranger  so  well  as 
with  a  Tyroler." 


I    ! 


:|iV! 


lliliililli 


:         ! 


I 


lllliliii;;; 


ill! 


\v 


CHAPTER  VII 


•  WAGER   OF   BATTLE 


That  evening  at  the  Wirthshaus,  as  things  turned  out, 
Will  and  Florian  had  an  excellent  opportunity  afiforded 
them  of  observing  for  themselves  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  Tyrolese  Robbler.  There  was  a  dance  at  the 
inn — a  prodigious  dance,  of  truly  national  severity.  It 
was  the  eve  of  a  wedding,  and,  as  is  usual  on  such  oc- 
casions, the  peasants  of  the  neighborhood  had  assembled 
in  full  force  to  drink  good  luck  to  the  forthcoming  union. 
The  Gaststude  or  bar-room  was  crowded  with  a  gay  throng 
of  bright  and  merry  faces.  The  young  men  were  there, 
jaunty,  bold,  and  defiant;  the  old  men,  austere  and  stern 
of  feature  from  the  hardships  of  long  life  among  the 
grim-faced  mountains.  Groups  of  black-eyed  lasses  stood 
about  the  room  and  bandied  repartee  witn  their  gaily- 
dressed  admirers ;  matrons,  unspoilt  by  conventional  re- 
straint, instead  of  checking  their  mirth,  looked  on  smilinc^ 
and  abetting  them.  Through  the  midst,  the  Herr  Vicar 
strolled,  stout  and  complaisant,  an  easy-going  man;  not 
his  to  stem  the  tide  of  their  innocent  merriment ;  so  long 
as  they  confessed  twelve  times  a  year,  and  subscribed  to 
release  their  parents'  souls  from  purgatory,  he  sanctified 
by  his  presence  the  beer  and  the  dances.  Andreas  Haus- 
berger,  too,  flitted  here  and  there  through  the  crowd  with 
an  anxious  eye ;  'twas  his  task  to  provide  for  and  protect 
the  bodies  of  his  guests,  as  'twas  the  Herr  Vicar's  to  save 
their  priceless  souls  from  undue  temptation. 

At  one  end  of  the  room,  on  a  little  raised  platform,  the 
music  sat  installed; — a  trombone,  a  zither,  and  a  wooden 
hackbrettle  made  up  the  whole  orchestra.  Scarcely  had 
the  performers  struck  up  an  enlivening  tune  when  the  men, 
selecting  as  partners  the  girls  of  their  choice,  began  to 
dance  round  the  hall  in  the  very  peculiar  and  (to  say  the 
whole  truth)    extremely    ungraceful    Tyrolean    fashion. 

89 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE 


53 


Will  and  Florian  had  heard  from  the  landlord  beforehand 
of  the  expected  feast,  to  which  they  were  not  invited ;  but, 
"  at  the  sound  of  the  harp,  sackbut,  psaltery,  and  all  kinds 
of  music,"  as  Florian  phrased  it,  their  curiosity  was  so 
deeply  aroused  that  they  crept  from  their  sitting-room  and 
peeped  cautiously  in  at  the  door  of  the  Tanzhoden.  The 
sight  that  met  their  eyes  in  that  close-packed  hall  was  suf- 
ficiently striking.  Even  Florian  allowed  this  was  utterly 
Arcadian.  For  a  minute  or  two,  just  at  first,  the  young 
men  and  maidens,  grasping  each  other  wildly  round  the 
neck  and  waist  with  both  their  arms,  in  a  sort  of  bear-like 
death-hug,  whirled  and  eddied  in  a  maze  round  and  round 
the  room,  stamping  their  heavy  boots,  till  Will  almost 
trembled  for  the  stability  of  the  rafters.  For  some  time 
that  was  all:  they  twisted  and  twirled  in  closely-coupled 
pairs,  clasped  breast  to  breast,  like  so  many  dancing  der- 
vishes. But,  of  a  sudden,  at  a  change  of  the  music,  as  if 
by  magic,  with  one  accord,  the  whole  figure  altered.  Each 
man,  letting  his  partner  go,  began  suddenly  to  perform  a 
series  of  strange  antics  and  evolutions  around  her,  the 
relics  of  some  pre-historic  dance,  of  which  the  snapping 
of  fingers  and  uttering  of  heuchs  in  a  Highland  fling  are 
but  a  faint  and  colorless  reminiscence.  As  the  reel  went 
on,  the  music  grew  gradually  faster  and  faster,  and  the 
motions  of  the  men  still  more  savage  and  fantastic.  The 
two  Englishmen  looked  on  in  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion. Such  agility  and  such  verve  they  had  never  before 
seen  or  even  dreamt  of.  Could  these  rustic  cavaliers  be 
really  made  of  india-rubber?  They  twisted  and  turned 
and  contorted  themselves  all  the  time  wi^h  such  obvious- 
ness of  their  bones,  and  such  extraordinary  energy! 
They  smacked  their  lips  and  tongues  as  they  went;  they 
jumped  high  into  the  air;  they  bent  back  till  their  heads 
touched  the  ground  behind;  they  bounded  upright  once 
more  to  regain  their  position  like  elastic  puppets,  and,  in 
between  whiles,  they  slapped  their  resounding  thighs  with 
their  horny  hands ;  they  crowed  like  cocks ;  they  whistled 
like  capercailzie ;  they  stamped  on  the  ground  with  their 
hob-nailed  shoes ;  they  shouted  and  sang,  and  clicked  their 
tongues  in  their  cheeks,  and  made  unearthly  noises  deep 
down  in  their  throats  for  which  language  has  as  yet  no 
articulate  equivalent..    Florian  gazed  and  glowered.    And 


54 


LINNET 


1  ;ii,i 


|||ii|ii!i;ii;i 


iji||i'i;i,;,: 


miiy^iiiin 


iiiiiii:! 


Hli' 


well  he  might ;  'twas  an  orgie  of  strange  sound,  a  phan- 
tasmagoria of  whirling  and  eddying  motion. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  the  two  young  English- 
men stood  undecided  and  observant  by  the  lintel  of  the 
door,  even  Florian  half -abashed  at  so  much  unwonted 
merriment.  But  after  a  while,  the  Herr  Vicar,  whose  ac- 
quaintance they  had  already  made  among  the  ston^^s  of 
the  churchyard,  spied  them  out  by  the  entrance,  and,  with 
one  hospitable  fat  forefinger  extended  and  crooked, 
beckoned  them  into  the  Tan::boden.  "  Come  on,"  he  cried, 
"  come  on ;  there's  room  enough  for  all ;  our  people  are  still 
glad  to  entertain  the  Herr  strangers :  for  some,  unawares, 
have  thus  entertained  angels." 

So  encouraged  by  the  authorized  mouthpiece  of  the  par- 
ish, Will  and  Florian  stepped  boldly  into  the  crowded 
room,  and  v^atched  the  little  groups  of  stalwart  youn^;; 
men  and  nut-brown  lasses  with  all  the  in'ierest  of  unex- 
pected novelty.  The  scene  was  indeed  a  picturesque  and 
curious  one.  Every  Tryolese  is,  or  has  been,  or  wishes  to 
be  thought,  a  mountain  hunter.  So  each  man  wore  his  hat, 
adorned  with  the  trophies  of  his  prowess  in  the  chase; 
with  some,  'twas  a  gmnsbart,  or  so-called  chamois'  beard — 
the  tuft  of  coarse  hair  that  grows  high  like  a  crest  along 
the  creature's  back  in  the  pairing  season ;  with  others, 
'twas  the  tail-feathers  of  the  glossy  blackcock,  stuck 
saucily  on  one  side,  with  that  perky  air  of  self-satisfied  as- 
surance so  characteristic  of  hot  youth  in  the  true-born 
Tyroler.  Glancing  around  the  room,  however,  Will  saw 
at  a  single  look  that  two  young  men  alone  among  that 
eager  crowd  wore  their  feathers  with  a  diflference — the 
"  hook  "  being  turned  round  in  the  opposite  direction  from 
all  their  neighbors'.  One  of  these  two  was  a  tall  and  big- 
built  young  man  of  very  florid  complexion,  with  a  scar  on 
his  forehead;  the  other  was  their  fiery  friend  of  that 
morning  on  the  hills,  Franz  Lindner.  From  what  Linnet 
had  said.  Will  guessed  at  once  by  the  turn  of  the  feather 
that  both  young  men  went  in  for  being  considered  Rob- 
blers. 

As  he  turned  to  impart  his  conjecture  to  Florian,  Lin- 
net caught  his  eye  mutely  from  a  corner  by  the  mantle- 
piec' .  She  wasn't  taking  part  in  the  reel  herself,  so,  un- 
daunted by  his  experience  of  Franz  Lindner  that  day,  Will 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE 


55 


strolled  over  to  her  side,  followed  close  at  heel  by  Florian. 
"  You  don't  dance  ?  "  he  said,  bending  over  her  with  as 
marked  politeness  as  he  would  have  shown  to  a  lady  in  a 
London  drawing-room. 

**  No ;  I  may  not,"  Linnet  answered,  in  her  pretty  broken 
English,  with  a  smile  of  not  unnatural  womanly  pleasure 
that  the  strangers  should  thus  single  her  out  before  all  her 
folk  for  so  much  personal  attention.  "  I  have  refuse 
Franz  Lindner,  so  may  I  not  dance  this  time  with  any  one. 
It  is  our  custom  so.  When  a  girl  shall  refuse  to  dance 
with  a  man  first,  she  may  not  that  turn  accept  any  other. 
Nor  may  he,  in  turn,  ask  her  again  that  evening." 

"  How  delightful !  "  Florian  cried,  effusively.  "  Franz 
Lindner's  loss  is  our  gain,  Fraulein  Linnet.  No;  don't 
frown  at  me  like  that ;  it  must  be  Fraulein ;  I've  too  much 
respect  for  you  to  call  you  otherwise.  But,  anyhow,  we'll 
sit  out  this  dance  and  talk  with  you." 

"  And  I,"  Will  put  in  with  a  quiet  smile,  "  I'll  call  you 
Linnet,  because  you  prefer  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  Linnet  said,  shyly,  with  a  grateful  flash 
of  her  eyes,  and  a  side  glance  towards  Franz  Lindner ;  "  it 
seems  less  as  if  you  mock  at  me." 

As  they  spoke,  the  figure  changed  of  a  sudden  once 
more  to  a  still  stranger  movement.  The  women,  falling 
apart,  massed  themselves  together  in  a  central  group,  in 
attitudes  expressive  of  studied  indifference  and  inatten- 
tion to  the  men;  their  partners,  on  the  contrary,  placing 
themselves  full  in  front  of  them,  began  a  series  of  most 
extraordinary  twists  and  twirls,  accompanied  by  loud  cries 
or  snapping  of  fingers,  and  endeavored  by  every  means 
in  the  power,  both  of  lungs  and  limbs,  to  compel  their 
disdainful  coquettes  to  take  notice  of  their  antics.  While 
they  stood  there  and  watched — Linnet  with  eyes  askance 
on  Franz  Lindner's  face — Andreas  Hausberger  strolled 
up,  and  took  his  place  beside  them. 

"Why,  that's  the  blackcock's  call!"  Will  exclaimed, 
with  a  start  of  recognition,  as  the  dancers,  with  one  accord, 
uttered  all  in  a  chorus  a  shrill  and  piercing  note  of  chal- 
lenge and  defiance.     "  I've  heard  it  on  the  mountains." 

"  Yes,"  the  imrth  assented ;  "  that's  the  blackcock's  call, 
and  this,  that  they're  doing,  is  the  blackcock's  love-dance. 
In  the  springtime,  on  the  mountains,  you  Hnow,  the  black- 


S6 


LINNET 


;  nil 


ll!!ll:;jiii'i|.  ';r!| 
I     i 


WmMlv::-  1 


cocks  and  the  grey  hens  assemble  in  their  dancing  place — 
their  Tansboden  we  call  it,  just  the  same  as  we  call  this 
one.  There,  the  hens  stand  aside,  and  pretend  to  be  coy, 
and  take  no  notice  of  their  mates,  like  the  girls  in  this 
dance  here;  while  the  blackcock  caper  in  front  of  them, 
and  flap  their  wings,  and  fluff  their  necks,  and  do  all  they 
know  to  display  their  strength  and  beauty.  Whoever 
dances  the  most  and  best,  gets  most  of  the  hens  to  join  his 
harem.  So  our  young  men  have  got  up  this  love-dance 
to  imitate  them;  they  flap  their  arms  the  same  way,  and 
give  the  blackcock's  challenge.  Nature's  pretty  much  the 
same  above  and  below,  I  guess — especially  here  in  the 
Tyrol,  where  we  haven't  yet  learned  to  hide  our  feelings 
under  smooth  silk  hats  as  you  do  in  England.  But  it's  all 
good  for  trade,  and  that's  the  great  thing.  It  makes  them 
thirsty.  You'll  see,  after  this  bout,  the  beer  will  flow  like 
water." 

And  sure  enough,  the  wirth  was  right.  As  soon  as  the 
dance  was  ended,  young  men  and  maidens,  with  equal  zest, 
betook  themselves,  all  alike,  to  the  consolations  of  the 
beer-jug.  Their  thirst  was  mighty.  And  no  wonder,  in- 
deed, for  this  Tyrolese  dancing  is  no  drawing-room  game, 
but  hard  muscular  exercise.  Andreas  Hausberger  looked 
on  with  a  cynical  smile  on  those  thin,  cold  lips  of  his. 
"  It's  good  for  trade,"  he  murmured  again,  half  to  him- 
self, once  or  twice,  as  the  girls  at  the  bar  filled  the  beer- 
mugs  merrily ;  "  very  good  for  trade.  So  are  all  amuse- 
ments. That's  the  way  the  foolish  get  rid  of  their  money 
— and  the  wise  get  hold  of  it." 

After  the  beer  came  a  pause,  a  long,  deep-drawn  pause ; 
and  then  two  young  men,  standing  out  from  the  throng, 
began  to  sing  alternately  at  one  another  in  short  Tyrolese 
stanzas.  One  of  them  was  Franz  Lindner ;  the  other  was 
the  young  man  with  the  scar  on  his  forehead,  whom  Lin- 
net described  as  her  cousin  Fridolin.  What  they  sang, 
neither  Florian  nor  Will  could  make  out,  for  the  words  of 
the  song  were  in  the  roughest  form  of  the  mountain  dia- 
lect ;  but  it  was  clear  from  their  manner,  and  the  way  they 
flung  out  their  words  point  blank  at  one  another's  heads, 
that  they  improvised  as  they  went,  like  Virgilian  shep- 
herds, and  that  their  remarks  were  by  no  means  either 
polite  or  complimentary  in  substance  or  character.    The 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE 


57 


rest  stood  rrund  in  a  circle  and  listened,  laughing  heartily 
at  times  as  each  in  turn  scored  a  point  no\y  and  then  off 
his  angry  rival ;  while  Linnet  and  the  other  girls  blushed 
again  and  again  at  some  audacious  retort,  though  the  bold- 
er among  the  women  only  tittered  to  themselves  or  looked 
up  with  arch  glances  at  each  risky  allusion.  Andreas 
Hausberger  too,  stood  by,  all  alert  to  keep  the  peace;  it 
was  plain  from  the  quick  light  in  his  resolute  eye,  and 
the  rapid  upward  movement  of  his  twitching  hand,  he  was 
ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  intervene  between  the  com- 
batants, and  put  a  stop  in  the  nick  of  time  to  the  scoffing 
contest  of  defiance  and  derision. 

The  song,  however,  passed  off  without  serious  breach 
of  the  peace.  Then  more  dances  followed,  more  beer,  and 
more  bucolic  contests.  As  the  evening  wore  on,  the  fun 
grew  fast  and  furious.  On  the  stroke  of  twelve,  the  Herr 
Vicar  withdrew — not  one  hour  too  early;  his  flock  were 
fast  getting  beyond  control  of  his  counsels.  Linnet  and 
a  few  others  of  the  more  modest-looking  girls  npw  sat  out 
from  the  dance;  the  rest  continued  to  whirl  round  and 
round  the  room  in  still  wilder  and  more  fantastic  move- 
ments than  ever.  Andreas  Hausberger  was  now  yet  more 
clearly  on  the  alert.  A  stray  spark  would  raise  a  flame 
in  that  magazine  of  gunpowder.  Suddenly,  at  the  end  of 
the  first  dance  after  the  priest's  departure,  the  young  man 
with  the  scar  on  his  forehead,  called  Cousin  Fridolin,  came 
forward  unexpectedly  to  where  Linnet  sat  aside  between 
Will  Deverill  and  Florian.  He  had  danced  with  her  once 
before  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  and  Will  observed  that 
through  that  dance  Franz  Lindner's  eyes  had  never  been 
taken  off  his  rival  and  Linnet,  But  now  the  tall  young 
man  came  forward  with  a  dash,  and  without  one  word  of 
warning,  placed  his  conical  hat,  blackcock's  feather  and 
all.  with  a  jodel  of  challenge,  on  Linnet's  forehead.  They 
had  seen  the  same  thing  done  before  more  than  once  that 
evening,  and  Linnet  had  explained  to  tnem  that  the  cus- 
tom was  equivalent  to  a  declaration  of  love  for  the  lady  so 
honored — 'twas  as  much  as  to  say,  "  This  girl  is  mine ; 
who  disputes  it  ?  "  But  as  the  tall  young  man  stood  back 
with  a  smile  of  triumph  on  his  handsome  lips,  one  hand  on 
his  hip,  staring  fixedly  at  Linnet,  Franz  Lindner  sprang 
forth  with  a  face  as  black  as  night,  and  a  brow  like  thun- 


58 


LINNET 


'ill 


iilllii.i!l!l 


der.  Trembling  vith  rage,  he  seized  the  hat  from  her 
head,  and  tore  hastily  from  its  band  the  offending  plume. 
"  Was  kost  die  Feder  ?  "  he  cried,  in  a  tone  of  angry  con- 
tempt, holding  it  up  in  his  hand  before  the  eyes  of  its 
owner;  "Was  kost  die  Feder?"  which  is,  being  inter- 
preted, "  How  much  for  your  feather  ?  " 

Quick  as  lightning,  the  answer  rang  out,  "  Funf  Finger 
und  ein  Griff  " — "  Five  fingers  and  a  grip."  It  is  the  cus- 
tomary challenge  of  the  Tyrolese  Robbler,  and  the  cus- 
tomary acceptance. 

Before  Will  had  time  to  understand  what  was  happen- 
ing next,  in  the  crack  of  a  finger,  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye, 
the  two  young  men  had  closed,  with  hands  and  arms  and 
bodies,  and  were  grappling  with  each  other  in  a  deadly 
struggle.  All  night  long  they  had  been  watching  and 
provoking  one  another;  all  night  long  they  had  vied  in 
their  attentions  to  Linnet,  and  their  studious  interchange 
of  mutual  insults.  Sooner  or  later  a  fight  seemed  inevit- 
able. Now,  flown  with  insolence  and  beer,  and  heated 
from  the  dance,  they  flung  themselves  together,  with  one 
accord,  like  two  tigers  in  their  fury.  Linnet  clapped  her 
hands  to  her  ears,  and  shut  her  eyes  in  horror.  For  a 
minute  or  two,  it  seemed  to  every  looker-on  as  though 
there  would  be  bloodshed  in  the  inn  that  evening.  Florian 
observed  this  little  episode  with  philosophic  interest ;  'twas 
pleasant  to  watch  these  simple  dramas  of  the  primary  emo- 
tions— love,  jealousy,  passion — still  working  themselves 
out  as  on  the  stage  of  Hellas.  He  had  never  before  seen 
them  so  untrammelled  in  their  play ;  he  stood  here  face  to 
face  with  Homeric  simplicity. 

In  five  minutes,  however,  to  his  keen  disappointment, 
the  whole  scene  was  finished.  Andreas  Hausberger,  that 
cool,  calm  man  of  the  world,  perceiving  at  a  glance  that 
such  contests  in  his  inn  were  very  bad  for  trade,  and  that 
'twould  be  a  pity  for  him  to  lose  by  a  violent  deaui  so  good 
a  singer,  or  so  constant  a  customer,  interposed  his  heavy 
hand  between  the  angry  combatants.  Your  half-tipsy 
man,  be  he  even  a  Tyrolese,  though  often  quarrelsome,  is 
usually  placable.  A  short  explanation  soon  set  every- 
thing right  again.  Constrained  by  Herr  Andreas,  with 
his  imperious  will,  the  two  Robblers  consented,  after  terms 
interchanged,  to  drown  their  differences  in  more  mugs  of 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE 


59 


beer,  and  then  retire  for  the  evening.  The  young  man 
witii  the  scar,  whom  they  called  Cousin  Fridolin,  regretted 
that  he  had  interfered  with  Franz  Lindner's  maiden,  but 
excused  his  act  as  a  mere  hasty  excess  of  cousinly  feeling. 
Franz  Lindner  in  return,  not  to  be  outdone  in  magnanim- 
ity, though  still  with  flashing  eyes,  and  keen  side-glance 
at  Linnet,  regretted  that  he  had  offered  such  indignity 
in  his  haste  to  the  dishonored  symbol  of  his  comrade's 
championship.  Hands  were  shaken  all  round;  cuts  and 
bruises  were  tended ;  and,  almost  as  soon  as  said,  to  Flo- 
rian's  infinite  disgust,  the  whole  party  had  settled  down  by 
the  tables  once  more,  on  an  amicable  basis,  to  beer  and 
conversation. 

But  before  they  had  retired  from  that  evening's  revel, 
Linnet  murmured  to  Will  in  a  tone  of  remonstrance  very 
real  and  aggrieved,  "  Franz  Lindner  had  no  right  to  call 
mc  his  Mddchen/' 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  HUMAN  HEART 

Next  morning  Will  woke  of  himself  very  early.  He 
jumped  out  of  bed  at  once,  and  crossed,  as  he  stood,  to 
the  open  window.  The  sun  had  just  risen.  Light  wisps 
of  white  cloud  crawled  slowly  up  the  mountains ;  the  dew- 
drops  on  the  grassblades  sparkled  in  the  silent  rays  like  in- 
numerable opals.  'Twas  the  very  time  for  an  early  stroll ! 
But  the  air,  though  keen,  had  the  rawness  and  chill  of  an 
autumn  morning.  Will  sniffed  at  it  dubiously.  He  had 
half  a  mind  to  turn  in  again  and  take  an  hour's  more  sleep. 
Should  he  dress  and  go  out,  or  let  the  world  have  time  to 
get  warmed  and  aired  before  venturing  abroad  in  it? 

As  he  debated  and  shivered,  however,  a  sight  met  his 
eye  which  determined  him  at  once  on  the  more  heroic 
course  of  action.  It  was  Linnet,  in  her  simple  little  peas- 
ant dress,  turning  up  the  hill-path,  that  led  behind  the 
ivirthshaiLS.  Now,  a  chance  of  seeing  Linnet  alone  with- 
out Florian  was  not  to  be  despised ;  she  interested  him  so 
much,  and,  besides,  he  wanted  to  ask  her  the  whole  truth 
about  the  Robblers.  Without  more  ado,  therefore,  he 
dressed  himself  hastily,  and  strolled  out  of  the  inn.  She 
hadn't  gone  far.  he  i  .t  sure;  he  would  find  her  close  by, 
sitting  by  herself  on  the  open  grass-slope  beyond  the  belt 
of  pinewood. 

And  so,  sure  enough,  he  did.  He  came  upon  her  un- 
seen. She  was  seated  with  her  back  to  him  on  a  round 
boulder  of  grey  stone,  pouring  her  full  throat  in  spon- 
taneous music.  For  a  minute  or  two.  Will  stood  still,  and 
listened  and  looked  at  her.  He  could  see  from  his  point  of 
vantage,  a  little  on  one  side  behind  the  boulder,  the  rise 
and  fall  of  her  swelling  bosom,  the  delicate  thrills  under 
her  rich  brown  chin.  And  then — oh,  what  melody !  Will 
drank  it  in  greedily.  He  was  loth  to  disturb  her,  so 
delicious  was  this  outpouring  of  her  soul  in  song.  For, 
like  her  namesake  of  the  woods,  Linnet  sang  best  when 

60 


THE  HUMAN  HEART 


6i 


she  sang  of  her  own  accord,  delivering  her  full  heart  of 
pure  internal  impulse. 

At  last  she  ceased,  and  turned.  Her  eye  fell  upon  Will. 
She  started  and  blushed ;  she  had  expected  no  such  audi- 
ence. The  young  man  raised  his  hat.  "  You're  alone," 
he  said,  "Linnet?" 

The  girl  looked  up  all  crimson.  "  Yes ;  I  came  out  that 
I  should  be  alone,"  she  answered,  shyly.  "  I  did  not  wish 
to  see  anyone.  I  wished  for  time  to  think  many  things 
over." 

"  Then  you  don't  w^ant  me  to  stop  ?  "  Will  broke  in, 
somewhat  crestfallen,  yet  drawing  a  step  nearer. 

"Oh,  no;  I  do  not  mean  that,"  Linnet  answered  in 
haste,  laying  her  hand  on  her  bosom.  Then  she  burst  into 
German,  which  came  so  much  easier  to  her.  "  I  wanted 
to  get  away  from  all  the  others,"  she  said,  looking  up  at 
him  pleadingly — and,  as  she  looked.  Will  saw  for  the  first 
time  that  big  tears  stood  brimming  in  her  lustrous  eyes; 
"  I  knew  they  would  tease  me  about — about  what  hap- 
pened last  evening,  and  I  didn't  wish  to  hear  it  till  I  had 
thought  over  with  myself  what  way  I  should  answer 
them." 

"Then  youVe  not  afraid  of  mc?"  Will  asked,  with  a 
little  thrill.  She  was  only  an  alp-girl,  but  she  sang  like  a 
goddess;  and  it's  always  pleasant,  you  know,  to  find  a 
woman  trusts  one. 

"  I  want  you  to  stop,"  Linnet  answered,  simply. 

She  motioned  him  with  one  hand  to  a  seat  on  a  little  heap 
of  dry  stones  hard  by.  Will  threw  himself  down  on  the 
heap  in  instant  obedience  to  her  mute  command,  and 
leaned  eagerly  forward.  "  Well,  so  this  Robbler  man 
wants  to  have  you.  Linnet,"  he  said,  with  some  earnest- 
ness ;  "  and  you  don't  want  to  have  him.  And  he  would 
have  fought  for  you  last  night,  against  the  man  with  the 
scar;  and  the  girls  in  the  inn  will  tease  you  about  it  this 
morning." 

"  Yes ;  the  girls  will  tease  me,"  Linnet  answered,  "  and 
will  say  cruel  things,  for  some  of  them  are  not  fond  of  me, 
because,  you  see,  Franz  Lindner  and  the  other  man,  my 
cousin  Fridolin,  are  both  of  them  Robblers,  and  would 
both  of  them  fight  for  me.  Now,  a  village  that  has  a 
Robbler  is  always  very  proud  of  him;  he's  its  champion 


62 


LINNET 


piiiiii 


and  head ;  and  if  a  Robbler  pays  attention  to  a  girl,  it's  a 
very  great  honor.  So  some  of  tlie  other  girls  don't  like  it 
at  all,  that  the  Robblers  of  two  villages  should  quarrel 
about  me.  Though  Gott  in  Himmel  knows  I've  not  en- 
couraged either  of  them." 

"And  would  you  marry  Franz  Lindner?"  Will  asked, 
with  genuine  interest.  It  seemed  to  him  a  pity — nay.  al- 
most a  desecration — that  this  bf-autiful  girl,  with  her  splen- 
did voice,  and  all  the  possibilities  it  might  enclose  for  the 
future,  should  throw  herself  away  upon  a  Tyrolese  hunter, 
whom  the  self-confidence  engendered  by  mere  muscular 
strength  had  turned  for  local  eyes  into  a  petty  hero. 

"No;  I  don't  think  I  would  marry  him,"  Linnet  an- 
swered, after  a  short  pause,  with  a  deliberate  air,  as  though 
weighing  well  in  her  own  mind  all  the  pros  and  cons  of  it. 
"  He'd  take  me  if  I  chose,  no  doubt,  and  so  also  would 
Fridolin.  Franz  says  he  has  left  three  other  girls  for  me. 
But  I  don't  like  him,  of  course,  any  better  for  that.  lie 
ought  to  have  kept  to  them." 

"And  you  like  him?"  Will  went  on,  drawing  circles 
with  his  stick  on  the  grass  as  he  spoke,  and  glancing  timid- 
ly askance  at  her. 

"  Yes ;  I  like  him — well  enough,"  Linnet  responded, 
doubtfully.  "  I  liked  him  better  once,  perhaps.  But  of 
late,  I  care  less  for  him.  I  never  cared  for  him  much  in- 
djeed  ;I  was  never  his  Miidchcn.  He  had  no  right  to  say 
that,  no  right  at  all,  at  all — for  with  us,  you  know,  in 
Tyrol,  that  means  a  great  deal.  How  much,  I  couldn't 
tell  you.  But  I  never  gave  him  any  cause  at  all  to  sav 
so. 

"  And  of  late  you  like  him  less?  "  W^'ll  inquired,  press- 
ing her  hard  with  this  awkward  question.  Yet  he  spoke 
sympathetically.  He  had  no  reason  for  what  he  said,  to 
be  sure — no  reason  on  earth.  He  spoke  at  random,  out  of 
that  pure  instinctive  impulse  which  leads  every  man  in  a 
pretty  girl's  presence,  mean  he  little  or  much,  to  make  at 
least  the  best  of  every  passing  advantage.  'Tis  pure 
virility  that:  the  natural  Adam  within  us.  I  wouldn't 
give  ten  cents  for  the  too  virtuous  man  who  by  "  ethical 
culture  "  has  educated  it  out  of  him. 

Linnet  looked  down  at  her  shoes — for  she  possessed 


iliiKi ! 


THE  HUMAN  HEART 


63 


those  luxuries.  ''  Yes ;  of  late  I  like  him  less,"  she  an- 
swered, somewhat  tremulously. 

"  Why  so?  "  Will  insisted.     His  lips,  too,  quivered. 

Linnet  raised  her  dark  eyes  and  met  his  for  one  instant. 
"  I've  seen  other  people  since ;  perhaps  I  like  other  people 
better,"  she  answered,  candidly. 

"  What  other  people? "  Will  asked,  all  on  fire. 

"  Oh,  that  would  he  telling,"  Linnet  answered,  with  an 
arch  look.  "  Perhaps  my  cousin  Fridolin — or  perhaps  the 
young  man  with  the  yellow  beard — or  perhaps  the  gnadige 
Herr's  honored  friend,  Herr  Florian." 

Will  drew  figures  with  his  stick  on  the  grass  for  a 
minute  or  two.  Then  he  looked  up  and  spoke  again. 
•'  But,  in  any  case,"  he  said,  "  you  don't  mean,  whatever 
comes,  to  marry  Franz  Lindner?"  It  grieved  him  to 
tliink  she  should  so  throw  herself  away  upon  a  village 
bully. 

Linnet  plucked  a  yellow  ragwort  and  pulled  out  tlie  ray- 
florets  one  by  one  as  she  answered,  "  I  shan't  have  the 
chance.  For,  tn  fell  you  the  truth,  I  think  Andreas  Haus- 
bcrger  means  himself  to  marry  me." 

At  the  words,  simply  spoken,  Will  drew  back,  all  aghast. 
The  very  notion  revolted  him.  As  yet,  he  was  not  the 
least  little  bit  in  his  own  soul  aware  he  was  in  love  with 
Linnet.  He  only  knew  he  admired  her  voice  very  much ; 
for  the  rest,  she  was  but  a  simple,  beautiful,  unlettered 
peasant  girl.  It  doesn't  occur,  of  course,  to  an  English 
gentleman  in  Will  Devcrill's  position,  to  fall  in  love  at  first 
sight  with  a  Tyrolese  milkmaid.  Rut  Andreas  Haus- 
bcrger!  the  bare  idea  distressed  him.  The  man  was  so 
cold,  so  cynical,  so  austere,  so  unlovable!  and  Will  more 
than  half-suspected  him  of  avaricious  money-grubbing. 
The  girl  was  so  beautiful,  s<'>  simpi:  -hearted,  so  young,  and 
Iloavcn  only  knew  to  what  |X)int  of  success  that  voice 
might  lead  her.  "  Oli  no."  he  burst  out.  impetuously ;  "  you 
can't  really  mean  that? — vou  m^ver  could  dream — don'l 
tell  me  you  could — of  acccj/ing  that  man  Andreas  Haus- 
bergcr  as  a  husband !  " 

"Why  not?"  tht  girl  said,  CA]m\y.  "He's  rich  and 
well  to  do.  I  could  keep  my  mother  in  such  cnmfr)rt  then, 
and  pay  for  such  masses  for  my  fat!je/-'«  :  oul — far  more 


64 


LINNET 


than  if  I  took  Franz  Lindner  or  my  cousin  Fridolin,  who 
are  only  Jdgers.  Andreas  Hausberger's  a  zvirth,  tlie  rich- 
est man  in  St.  \^alentin ;  he  has  horges  and  cows  and  lands 
and  pastures.  And  if  he  says  I  must,  how  can  I  well  re- 
fuse him  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  look  of  childlike  appeal. 
In  a  moment,  though  with  an  effort,  Will  realized  to  him- 
self how  the  question  looked  to  her.  Andreas  Hausbcrgcr 
was  her  master,  and  had  alwa}s  been  her  master.  She 
must  do  as  he  bid,  for  he  was  very  masterful.  He  was  her 
teacher,  too,  and  would  help  her  to  make  her  fortune  as  a 
singer  in  the  world,  if  ever  she  made  it.  He  was  i;ich  as 
the  folk  of  the  village  counted  riches,  and  could  manage 
that  things  should  be  pleasant  or  unpleasant  for  her,  as  it 
suited  his  fancy.  In  a  community  where  men  still  fought 
with  bodily  arms  for  their  brides,  Andreas  Hausberger's 
will  might  well  seem  law  to  his  scnncrin  in  any  such  mat- 
ter. 

"  Besides."  Linnet  went  on,  plucking  another  ragwort, 
and  similarly  demolishing  it,  "  if  I  didn't  want  to  take  him, 
the  Herr  Vicar  would  make  me.  For  the  Herr  Vicar 
would  do,  of  course,  as  Andreas  Hausberger  wished  him. 
And  how  could  I  dare  disobey  the  Herr  Vicar's  orders?" 

To  this  .'^nbtle  question  of  religion  and  morals  Will 
Deverill.  for  his  part,  had  no  ready-made  answer.  Church 
and  State,  it  was  clear,  were  arrayed  against  him.  So, 
after  casting  about  for  a  while  in  his  own  mind  in  vain  for 
H  reply,  he  contented  himself  at  last  with  going  off  oblique- 
ly on  a  collateral  issue.  **  And  you  think,"  he  said, 
'Andreas  Hausberger  really  wants  to  marry  you?  " 

"  Well,  he  never  quite  told  me  so,"  Linnet  replied,  half- 
deprecatingly,  as  who  fears  to  arrogate  to  herself  too 
great  an  honor,  "  and  perhaps  I'm  wrong :  but  still  T  think 
he  means  it.  And  I  think  it'll  perhaps  depend  in  part 
upon  how  he  finds  the  foreign  Herrscliaft  like  my  sink- 
ing. For  that,  he  says  little  to  me  about  it  at  present. 
But  if  he  sees  T  do  well,  and  am  worth  making  his  wife — 
for  he's  the  liest  liusband  a  girl  could  get  in  St.  Valentin 
in  that  case,  ja  wohl.  I  believe  he'll  ask  me." 

She  said  it  all  naturally,  as  so  much  matter  of  course. 
But    Will's    poetic    soul    rebelled    against    the    sacrifice. 

Surely,"  he  cried,  "  you  must  love  some  one  else ;  and 


« 


ill'  i' 


1 


THE  HUMAN  HEART 


65 


why  not,  then,  take  the  man  you  love,  whoever  he  may  be, 
and  leave  Andreas  Hausberger's  money  to  perish  with 
him?" 

*'  So!  "  Linnet  said  quickly — the  pretty  German  "  so!  " 
Her  fingers  trembled  as  she  twitched  at  the  rays  of  the 
ragwort.  She  plucked  the  florets  in  haste,  and  flung  them 
away  one  by  one.  First  love's  conversation  deals  largely 
in  pauses.  "  The  man  one  might  love,"  she  murmured 
at  last  with  a  petulant  air,  "  doesn't  always  love  one. 
How  should  he,  indeed?  It  is  not  in  nature.  For, 
doesn'^  the  song  say,  *  Who  loves  me,  love  I  not ;  whom  1 
love,  loves  me  not  ? '  But  what  would  the  Herr  Vicar  say 
if  he  hear  '  ;ie  talking  like  this  with  the  foreign  gentle- 
folk? He  ci  tell  me  it  was  sin.  A  girl  should  not  speak 
of  her  heart  to  strangers.  I  have  spoken  too  much.  But 
I  couldn't  help  it,  somehow.  The  gnddige  Herr  is  always 
so  kind  to  me.  You  lead  me  on  to  confess.  You  can 
understand  these  things,  I  think,  so  much  better  than  the 
others." 

She  rose,  half-liesitating.  Will  Deverill,  for  his  part, 
rose  in  turn  and  faced  her.  For  a  second  each  paused; 
they  looked  shyly  at  one  another.  Will  thought  her  a 
charming  girl — for  a  common  milkmaid.  Linnet  thought 
him  a  kind,  good  friend — for  one  of  the  great  unapproach- 
able foreign  Herrschaft.  Will  held  out  one  frank  hand. 
Linnet  gave  him  the  tips  of  her  brown  fingers  timidly. 
He  clasped  them  in  his  own  while  a  man  might  count  ten. 
"Shall  ycui  be  here  .  .  .  to-morrow  .  .  .  about  the  same 
time? "  he  inquirec^  before  he  let  them  drop,  half  hesitat- 
ing. 

"  Perhaps,"  Linnet  answered,  looking  down  demurely. 
Then  blushing,  she  nodded  at  him,  half  curtsied,  and 
sprang  away.  She  gave  a  rapid  glance  to  right  and  left, 
to  see  if  she  was  perceived,  clarted  lightly  down  the  hill, 
and  hurried  back  to  the  zvirthshans. 

But  all  that  day  long.  Will  wa?  moody  and  silent.  He 
thought  much  to  himself  of  this  strange  idea  that  Andreas 
Hausberger,  that  saturnine  man.  was  to  marry  this  beau- 
tiful musical  alp-girl. 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   WORLD 


For  some  four  or  five  mornings  after  this  hillside  inter- 
view, Florian  noticed  every  day  a  most  unaccountable 
fancy  on  Will  Deverill's  part  for  solitary  walks  at  early 
dawn  before  breakfast.  Neither  dew  nor  hoar-frost 
seemed  to  damp  his  ardor.  Florian  rose  betimes  hin  • 
self,  to  be  sure^  but  Will  had  always  already  distanced 
him.  And  on  every  one  of  those  five  mornings,  when 
Will  said  farewell  to  Linnet  by  the  big  grey  boulder,  he 
used  the  same  familiar  formula  of  leave-taking,  "  You'll 
be  here  again  to-morrow  ? "  And  every  time,  Linnet, 
thrilling  and  trembling  inwardly,  answered  back  the  same 
one  conscience-salving  word,  "  Perhaps,"  which  oracular 
and  highly  hypothetical  promise  she  nevertheless  most 
amplv  fulfilled  with  great  regularity  on  the  following 
morning.  For  when  Will  arrived  at  the  trysting-place, 
he  always  found  Linnet  was  there  before  him ;  and  she 
rose  from  her  rocky  seat  with  a  blush  of  downcast  wel- 
come, which  a  less  modest  man  than  he  might  easily  have 
attributed  to  its  true  motive.  To  Will,  however,  most 
unassummg  of  men  and  poets,  she  was  only  an  interest- 
ing alp-girl,  WHO  liked  to  meet  him  on  the  hillside  for  a 
lesson  in  English.  Though,  to  be  sure,  why  it  was 
necessary  to  give  the  lesson  alone  in  the  open  air  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  morninp^  and,  still  more,  why  the  professor 
should  have  thought  it  needful  to  hold  the  pupil's  hand  in 
his  own  for  many  minutes  together,  to  enforce  his  points, 
Will  himself  would  n  donbt  have  been  hard  put  to  ex- 
plain on  philological  principles.  Moreover,  strange  to 
say,  foi  Linnet's  sake,  the  conversation  was  conducted 
mostly  in  German. 

Lookers-on,  however,  see  most  of  the  game.  On  the 
sixth  such  morning,  it  occurred  casually  to  Florian  as  he 
lay  abed  and  reflected,  to  get  up  early  himself  and  go  out 

66 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 


67 


on  the  hillside.  Not  that  the  airy  epicurean  philosopher 
was  by  any  means  afiflicted  with  the  essentially  vulgar  vice 
of  curiosity.  He  was  far  too  deeply  occupied  with  Mr.  Flo- 
rian  Wood  to  think  of  expending  much  valuable  attention 
on  the  habits  and  manners  of  less  interesting  personalities. 
LuL  lii  this  particular  case  he  felt  he  had  a  positive  Duty 
to  perform.  Now,  a  Duty  had  for  Florian  all  the  luxury 
of  novelty.  He  was  troubled  with  few  such,  and  when- 
ever he  found  one,  he  made  the  most  of  it.  Just  at  present, 
he  was  persuaded  Will  Deverill  was  on  the  eve  of  "  getting 
himself  into  an  entanglement "  with  the  beautiful  milk- 
maid who  so  paradoxically  preferred  his  society  to  Flo- 
rian's.  Plain  Duty,  therefore,  to  Will  hlmscli,  to  Mrs. 
Deverill  mdre,  to  the  just  expectations  of  the  ladies  of 
England  (who  had  clearly  a  prior  claim  on  Will's  fortune 
and  affection),  compelled  Florian  to  interfere  before 
things  went  too  far,  so  as  to  save  his  friend  from  the  con- 
sequences of  his  own  possible  folly.  Animated  by  these 
noble  impulses,  Florian  did  not  even  shrink  from  leaving 
a  very  snug  bed  at  five  o'clock  that  cold  morning,  and 
waiting  at  the  window,  like  a  private  detective,  till  Will 
took  liis  way  up  the  path  to  the  hillside. 

About  six.  Will  emerged  from  the  door  of  the  inn. 
Florian  gave  him  law,  five  minutes  law — just  rope  enough 
to  hang  himself.  Then,  marking  from  the  back  window 
which  way  Will  had  gone,  he  followed  the  trail  up  hill 
with  all  the  novel  zest  of  an  amateur  policeman.  Skulk- 
ing along  the  pinewood,  he  came  upon  them  from  behind, 
by  the  same  path  which  Will  himself  had  taken  on  the 
morning  when  he  followed  Linnet  first  to  the  boulder  in 
the  pasture.  Then,  reading  softly  over  the  green  turf 
with  muffled  footfall,  he  was  close  upon  the  unconscious 
pair  before  they  knew  or  suspected  it.  The  ill-advised 
young  people  were  seated  side  by  side  on  a  little  ledge  of 
rock  that  protruded  from  the  green-sward.  Will  leant 
eagerly  forward,  holding  Linnet's  hand,  and  looking  hard 
into  her  eyes ;  the  girl  herself  drew  back,  and  cast  down 
her  glance,  as  if  half  fearing  the  ardor  of  his  evident  ad- 
vances. Respect  for  the  conventions  made  Florian  cough 
lightly  before  disturbing  their  interview.  At  the  sound, 
both  looked  up.  Some  five  feet  nothing  of  airy  observ- 
ant humanity  beamed  blandly  down  upon  them.    Linnet 


68 


LINNET 


gave  a  little  cry,  started  up  in  surprise,  hid  her  crimson 
face  hurriedly  between  two  soft  brown  hands,  and  then, 
yielding  to  the  first  impulse  of  her  shy  rustic  nature,  fled 
away  without  a  word,  leaving  Will  face  to  face  with  that 
accusing  moralist. 

The  epicurean  philosopher  seated  himself,  like  stern 
justice  in  miniature,  beside  his  erring  friend.  His  face 
was  grave:  when  Florian  did  gravity,  he  did  it,  as  he  did 
everything  else,  "  consummately."  For  a  minute  or  two 
he  only  stared  hard  at  Will,  slowly  nodding  his  head  like 
an  earthenware  mandarin,  and  stroking  his  smooth  chin  in 
profound  meditation.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  he  de- 
livered his  bolt,  point  blank.  "  To-morrow,"  he  said, 
calmly,  "  we  go  on  to  Innsbruck." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  Will  asked,  with  a  dogged  air  of  dissent. 

"  Because,"  Florian  answered,  with  crushing  dialectic, 
"  we  never  intended  to  spend  our  whole  time  on  the  upper 
Zillerthal,  did  we  ?  " 

This  sudden  flank  movement  took  Will  fairly  by  sur- 
prise. For  Florian  was  quite  right.  Their  plan  of  cam- 
paign on  leaving  London  included  the  South  Tyrol,  Ver- 
ona, and  Milan.  "  But  a  day  or  two  longer,"  he  put  in, 
half-imploringly,  thus  caught  oflF  his  guard.  "  Just  a  day 
or  two  longer  to  ...  to  settle  things  up  a  bit." 

Stem  justice  was  inexorable.  "  Not  one  other  night," 
Florian  answered,  severely.  "  The  lotus  has  by  this  time 
been  sufficiently  eaten.  I  see  what  this  means.  I  know 
now  why  you've  kept  me  here  so  long  at  St.  Valentin. 
With  Innsbruck  and  Cortina  and  the  untrodden  Dolomites 
beckoning  me  on  to  come,  you've  planted  me  plump  in 
this  hole,  and  kept  me  here  at  your  side — all  for  the  sake 
of  one  Tyrolese  cow-girl.  In  the  name  of  common  mo- 
rality," and  Florian  frowned  like  a  very  puisne  judge,  "  I 
protest  against  these  most  irregular  and  improper  pro- 
ceedings." 

"  I  never  meant  the  girl  any  harm,"  Will  answered,  with 
a  faint  flush. 

"  That's  just  it,  my  dear  fellow.  I  know  very  well  you 
didn't.  That's  the  head  and  front  of  your  oflFending.  If 
you  had  meant  her  harm,  of  course  I  could  much  more 
readily  have  forgiven  you." 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 


69 


"Florian,"  Will  said,  looking  up,  "let's  be  serious, 
please,  for  once.     This  is  a  serious  matter." 

Florian  pursed  his  thin  lips,  and  knitted  his  white 
brows  judicially.  "  H'm,  h'm,"  he  said,  with  slow  delib- 
erateness.  "  It's  as  bad  as  that,  is  it?  Why,  Deverill,  I 
assure  you,  I've  rarely — if  ever — been  as  serious  as  this 
in  all  my  life  before.  Don't  look  at  me  like  that.  I  mean 
just  what  I  say.  I'm  not  thinking  about  the  girl,  but 
about  you,  my  dear  fellow.  The  morals  of  these  parts,  as 
you  very  well  know,  are  primitive — primitive.  It  won't 
do  her  much  harm,  even  if  it  gets  noised  about,  to  have 
been  seen  on  the  hills,  alone  in  the  grey  dawn,  hand  in 
hand  with  an  Englishman.  This  is  no  place  for  Oriental 
seclusion  of  women.  Indeed,  from  what  I  hear,  the  Ar- 
cadian relations  of  these  uncHaperoned  alp-girls  with  their 
lovers  from  the  plains  must  be  something  truly  sweet  in 
their  unaffected  simplicity.  Herr  Hausberger  was  telling 
me  last  night  that  when  an  alp-girl  marries,  all  the  hunt- 
ers and  peasants,  her  discarded  lovers,  whom  she  has  ad- 
mitted to  the  intimacy  of  her  chalet  on  the  mountains, 
leave  a  cradle  at  the  door  of  her  chosen  husband  on  the 
night  of  the  wedding.  The  good  man  wakes  up  the  morn- 
ing  after  his  marriage  to  find  staring  him  in  the  face,  on 
his  own  threshold,  these  tangible  proofs  of  his  wife's  little 
slips  in  her  spinster  existence.  .  .  .  It's  a  charming  cus- 
tom. I  find  it  quite  economical.  He  knows  the  worst  at 
once.  It  saves  him  the  trouble,  so  common  among  our- 
selves, of  finding  them  out  for  himself  piecemeal  in  the 
course  of  his  later  relations." 

"  You  are  wandering  from  the  question,"  Will  interrupt- 
ed, testily.  He  didn't  quite  relish  these  generalized  in- 
nuendoes against  poor  Linnet's  character. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  Florian  went  on  very  gravely. 
"  The  point  of  these  remarks  lies  in  the  application  there- 
of, as  Captain  Cuttle  puts  it.  .  .  .  When  Linnet  marries, 
you  mean,  I  suppose,  to  increase  the  number  of  the  deli- 
cate little  offerings  presented  at  her  door  by " 

Will  started  up  and  glared  at  him.  "  You  shall  not 
speak  like  that,"  he  cried  in  a  very  angry  voice,  "  of  such 
a  girl  as  Linnet," 


70 


LINNET 


deprecating  gesture  towards  his  excited  friend.  "  This  is 
too  bad,"  he*  said,  sighing,  "  very  bad  indeed,  far  worse 
than  I  imagined.  I  said  it  on  purpose,  just  to  see  what 
you  were  driving  at.  And  I  find  out  the  worst.  If  you 
mean  the  girl  no  harm,  and  take  a  sHghting  little  jest  on 
her  to  heart  like  that,  why  your  case  is  desperate — an 
aggravated  attack,  complicated  by  incipient  matrimonial 
symptoms.  You  iieed  change  of  air,  change  of  scene, 
change  of  company.  Law  of  Medes  and  Persians,  it's 
Innsbruck  to-morrow !  You  go  with  me  as  I  bid,  or  I  go 
without  you.  Demur,  and  I  leave  you  at  once  to  your 
fate.     You  may  stop  with  your  cow-girl." 

"  Don't  speak  of  her  by  that  name ! "  Will  broke  in, 
half-angrily. 

But  Florian,  for  his  part,  was  provokingly  cool.  "  All 
A  is  A,"  he  said,  calmly,  with  irresistible  logic — "  and 
every  cow-girl's  a  cow-girl.  I'll  call  her  a  boutrophista, 
or  a  neat-herding  Phyllis,  if  it  gives  you  any  pleasure. 
That's  neither  here  nor  there.  The  point's  just  this — You 
mean  the  girl  no  harm :  then  what  the  deuce  do  you  mean? 
Are  you  going  to  marry  her  ?  " 

"  No ;  certainly  not,"  Will  answered.  She  was  a  very 
nice  girl,  and  he  loved  to  talk  with  her — there  was  some- 
thing so  sweetly  unsophisticated  in  her  ways  that  she 
charmed  and  attracted  him.  But  marry  her?  No;  the 
very  word  surprised  him ;  he  had  never  even  dreamt  of  it. 
In  the  fi'st  place  (though  as  yet  he  hadn't  as  much  as 
thought  about  that),  he  had  nothing  to  marry  upon.  And 
in  the  second  place,  if  he  had,  could  he  take  a  Tyrolese 
milkmaid  fresh  from  the  cowsheds  in  his  tow  to  London, 
and  present  her  to  his  friends  as  Mrs.  Will  Deverill  ? 

"  Then  what  the  deuce  do  you  mean  ?  "  Florian  repeated, 
persistently.  His  sound  common-sense,  when  he  chose  to 
let  it  loose  from  his  veneer  of  affectation,  was  no  mean 
commodity. 

Thus  driven  to  bay,  Will  was  forced  to  reply  with  a 
somewhat  sheepish  air,  "  I  don't  know  that  I  ni?an  any- 
thing. I've  never  tried  to  formulate  my  state  of  mind 
to  myself.  She's  a  very  nice  girl  .  .  .  for  her  class  and 
sort  .  .  .  and  I  like  to  talk  to  her." 

"  And  when  you  talk  to  her,  you  like  to  hold  her  hand 
and  kan  forward  like  this,  and  stare  with  all  your  eyes, 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 


71 


and  look  for  all  the  world  as  if  you  wanted  to  devour  her! 
Oh  yes;  I've  seen  you.  No,  no,  Will,  it  won't  do;  I've 
been  there  myself,  and  I  know  all  about  it.  Looking  at 
the  matter  impartially,  as  a  man  of  the  world  " — and  Flo- 
rian,  drawing  himself  up,  assumed  automatically,  as  those 
words  rolled  out,  his  most  magisterial  attitude — "  what 
I'm  really  afraid  of  is  that  you'll  get  gradually  dragged 
into  this  rustic  syren's  vortex,  and  be  swallowed  up  before 
you  know  it  in  the  treacherous  sea  of  matrimony.  How- 
ever, you  don't  believe  that,  and  I  know  enough  of  the 
world  to  know  very  well  it's  no  use,  therefore,  arguing 
out  that  aspect  of  the  case  with  you.  No  fellow  will  ever 
believe  he  can  be  such  a  fool — till  he  catches  himself  in 
church  face  to  face  at  last  with  the  awful  reality.  I  pre- 
fer, accordingly,  to  go  on  the  other  tack  with  you.  If 
you  don't  mean  to  marry  the  girl,  then,  whether  you  know 
it  or  not,  you  mean  no  good  to  her.  I  dare  say  you've  got 
all  sorts  of  conventional  notions  in  your  head — which, 
thank  heaven,  I  don't  share — about  honor  and  so  forth 
.  .  ,  how  a  cow-girl's  virtue — I  beg  your  pardon,  a  bou- 
trophista's,  or  a  neat-herding  Phyllis's — is  as  sacred  at 
your  hands  as  the  eldest  daughter's  of  a  hundred  mar- 
quises. But  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  If  you  don't 
viarry  the  girl,  and  you  don't  ruin  the  girl,  there's  only  one 
thing  left  possible — you  must  break  the  girl's  heart  for 
her.  Between  ourselves,  being,  I  flatter  myself,  a  tolerable 
psychologist,  I  don't  for  a  moment  suppose  that's  what 
would  actually  happen;  you'd  get  yourself  entangled  and 
you'd  go  on  and  on,  and  you'd  flounder  and  struggle, 
and  you'd  marry  her  in  the  end,  just  to  save  the  girl  mis- 
ery. But  we'll  do  poojah  to  your  intellect  at  the  expense 
of  your  heart,  and  we'll  put  it  the  other  way,  as  you  seem 
to  prefer  it.  Very  well,  then ;  sooner  or  later  you'll  have 
to  leave  this  place.  No  doubt,  after  what  I've  seen  this 
morning,  it'll  cost  the  girl  a  wrench — her  vanity  must  be 
flattered  by  receiving  sc  much  undisguised  attention  from 
a  real  live  gentleman.  Bit,  sooner  or  later,  as  I  say,  come 
it  must,  of  course ;  and  sooner,  on  the  whole,  will  be  bet- 
ter for  her  than  later.  The  longer  you  stop,  the  more 
she'll  fall  in  love  with  you;  the  quicker  you  get  away 
from  her  the  less  it'll  hurt  her." 
He  spoke  the  words  of  wisdom — according  to  his  kind. 


M 


7* 


LINNET 


Will  rose  again  with  an  effort,  and  started  homeward. 
As  they  walked  down  the  pasture,  and  through  the  belt  of 
pinewood,  he  said  never  a  word.  But  he  thought  all  the 
more  on  Florian's  counsel.  Till  that  morning,  he  had 
never  tried  to  face  the  question  himself :  he  liked  the  girl — 
that  was  all;  she  sang  like  a  linnet;  and  he  loved  to  be 
near  her.  But  the  longer  he  stopped,  the  harder  for  her 
would  be  the  inevitable  breaking  off.  Just  beyond  the 
pinewood  Florian  halted  and  fronted  him.  "  See  here, 
Will,"  he  said,  kindly,  but  with  the  world's  common  sense, 
"  it  isn't  that  I  care  twopence  myself  what  becomes  of  the 
girl — girls  like  that  are  just  made  for  you  and  me  to  play 
skittles  with ;  if  you  meant  her  any  harm  I  wouldn't  for 
the  world  interfere  with  any  other  man's  little  fancies. 
All  I  want  is  to  get  you  away  from  the  place  before  you've 
time  to  commit  yourself.  I  use  the  other  argument  as  an 
argumentum  ad  hominem  only.  But  as  that  it  has  its 
weight.  The  longer  you  stop,  the  harder  it'll  be  in  the 
end  for  her." 

Will  drew  a  deep  breath.  His  mind  was  made  up  now. 
"  Very  well,  then,"  he  said^  slowly,  though  with  an  evident 
struggle;  "  if  I  must  go,  I  must  go,  I  won't  haggle  over  a 
day.    Let  us  make  it  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  X 


HAIL  Columbia! 


And  next  morning,  indeed,  saw  them  safe  at  Innsbruck. 

Tvvas  a  pull  to  get  away ;  Will  frankly  admitted  to  his 
own  soul  he  felt  it  so.  But  he  saw  it  was  right,  and  he 
went  accordingly.  Linnet,  he  knew,  had  grown  fond  of 
him  in  those  few  days ;  when  he  asked  her  once  how  it  was 
she  liked  Franz  Lindner  less  now  than  formerly,  she 
looked  up  at  him  with  an  arch  smile,  and,  after  a  second's 
pause,  made  the  frank  avowal :  "  Perhaps  it's  because 
now  ...  I  think  Englishmen  nicer."  At  the  moment  his 
heart  had  come  up  in  his  mouth  with  pleasure,  as  will  hap- 
pen with  all  of  us  when  a  pretty  woman  lets  us  see  for 
ourselves  she  really  likes  us.  But  he  must  go  all  the 
same:  for  Linnet's  sake — he  must  go:  if  illusion  there 
were,  he  must  at  once  disillusion  her. 

As  for  Linnet  herself,  she  accepted  the  separation  much 
more  readily,  to  say  the  truth,  than  Will  ever  imagined  she 
could.  It  half-piqued  him,  indeed,  to  find  how  easily  she 
seemed  to  acquiesce  in  the  inevitable.  She  trembled 
when  he  told  her,  to  be  sure,  and  tears  started  to  her  eyes ; 
but  she  answered,  none  tlie  less,  in  a  fairly  firm  voice,  that 
she  always  knew  the  gnddige  Herr  must  go  away  in  the 
end ;  that  she  hoped  he  would  remember  her  wherever  he 
went ;  and  she — with  a  deep  sigh — she  could  never  forget 
his  kindness.  That,  however,  was  all.  Just  a  pressure 
of  her  fingers,  just  a  kiss  on  his  hand,  just  a  tear  that 
dropped  wet  on  his  outstretched  palm  as  she  bent  her 
head  over  it  in  customary  obeisance,  and  Linnet  was  gone, 
and  he  saw  no  more  of  her  that  evening.  In  the  morning 
when  he  stood  at  the  door  to  bid  farewell  to  the  household, 
he  fancied  her  eyes  looked  red  with  crying.  But  she 
grasped  his  hand  hard,  for  all  that,  and  said  good-by  with 
out  flinching.  He  gave  a  florin  or  two  as  Tr  ink  geld  to 
each  of  the  servants  at  the  inn;  but  to  Linnet. he  felt  he 
couldn't  give  anything.     She  was  of  different  mould.  Lin- 

73 


74 


LINNET 


lili 


net  noticed  the  omission  hciself,  with  a  gHstening  eye — 
and  took  it,  as  it  was  meant,  for  a  social  distinction. 

The  plain  truth  was,  she  had  always  expected  Will  must 
soon  go  away  from  her.  Nor  was  she  indeed  as  yet  what 
one  might  fairly  call  quite  in  love  with  him.  The  very 
distance  between  them  seemed  to  forbid  the  feeling.  He 
was  kind,  he  was  sympathetic,  he  was  musical,  he  was  a 
gentleman,  he  divined  her  better  qualities,  her  deeper  feel- 
ings ;  he  spoke  to  her  more  deferentially  and  with  truer 
respect  than  any  of  her  own  equals  had  ever  yet  spoken  to 
her ;  she  couldn't  help  feeling  flattered  that  he  should  like 
to  come  out  upon  the  hillside  to  talk  with  her ;  but,  as  yet, 
she  hardly  said  to  herself  she  loved  him.  If  she  had,  what 
good?  Was  it  likely  such  a  great  gentleman  from  over 
the  seas  would  care  to  marry  a  mere  Tyrolese  milkmaid? 
Was  it  likely,  if  he  did,  the  zvirth  and  the  priest  would  al- 
low her  to  marry  a  Protestant  Englishman  ? 

So,  from  the  very  outset,  save  as  a  passing  afTection, 
Will  Deverill  stood  wholly  outside  poor  Linnet's  horizon. 
She  regarded  him  as  a  pleasant  but  short-lived  episode. 
Besides,  light  loves  are  the  rule  with  the  alp-girl.  It  was 
quite  in  the  nature  of  things  for  Linnet  that  a  man  should 
take  a  liking  to  her,  should  pay  her  brief  court,  should 
expect  from  her  far  greater  favors  than  ever  Will  Dever- 
ill expected,  and  should  give  her  up  in  the  end  for  a  mere 
freak  of  fancy.  That  was  the  way  of  the  Zillerthal !  So, 
though  the  thorn  had  gone  deep,  she  accepted  her  fate  as 
just  what  one  might  have  anticipated,  and  hardly  cried  for 
an  hour  in  her  own  bed  at  night,  to  think  those  sweet 
mornings  on  the  pasture  by  the  pinewood  were  to  be  over 
forever.  For  of  course,  in  the  end,  if  the  zvirth  so  willed, 
she  must  marry  herself  contentedly  to  Andreas  Haus- 
berger. 

Acting  on  Florian's  advice,  Will  did  not  even  tell  his 
tremulous  little  friend  he  was  going  to  Innsbruck.  "  Bet- 
ter break  it  oflf  at  once,"  Florian  said,  with  practical  com- 
monsense,  "  once  for  all  and  absolutely.  No  chance  of 
letters  or  any  nonsense  of , that  sort — if  the  dulcinea  can 
v/rite,  which  of  course  is  doubtful."  And  Will,  having 
made  up  his  mind  to  the  wrench,  acquiesced  in  this  sage 
council.  So  for  Linnet,  the  two  strangers  who  had 
loomed  so  large,  and  played  so  leading  a  part  on  the  stage 


HAIL  COLUMBIA ! 


75 


|B 


of  her  little  life  for  one  rapturous  fortnight,  vanished  ut- 
terly, as  it  were,  at  a  single  breath,  like  a  dissolving  cloud, 
into  the  infinite  and  the  unknowable. 

By  seven  that  night,  the  young  Englishmen  found  them- 
selves once  more  in  the  full  flood  of  civilization.  The 
electric  light  shed  its  beams  on  their  hotel ;  a  Parisian  chef 
dc  cusisine  turned  out  sweetbreads  and  ices  of  elaborate 
art  to  pamper  their  palates.  Once  more,  Florian  donned 
with  joy  the  black  coat  of  Bond  Street.  They  had  pene- 
trated the  Zillerthal  with  their  knapsacks  on  their  backs; 
but  two  leather  portmanteaus,  enclosing  the  fuller  garb  of 
civilized  life,  awaited  their  advent  at  Innsbruck.  Thus 
restored  to  society,  with  a  rosebud  in  his  buttonhole,  the 
dainty  little  man  descended  radiant  to  the  sallc-a-manger. 
He  welcomed  the  change ;  after  three  whole  weeks  of  un- 
adulterated Nature,  he  had  tired  of  Arcadia.  And  he 
loved  tablc-d'hote:  'twas  a  field  for  the  prosecution  of 
social  conquests.  "  A  man  goes  there  on  his  merits,"  he 
said  briskly  to  Will,  as  they  dressed  for  dinner,  "  neither 
handicapped  nor  yet  unduly  weighted.  Nobody  knows 
who  he  is,  and  he  knows  nobody.  So  he  smarts  there  on 
the  flat,  without  fear  or  favor;  and  if  at  the  end  of  ten 
minutes  he  hasn't  managed  to  make  himself  the  center  of 
a  conversational  circle,  he  may  retire  into  private  life  as  a 
social  failure." 

On  this  particular  evening,  however,  in  spite  of  several 
brilliant  and  manful  efforts,  Florian  didn't  somehow  suc- 
ceed in  attracting  an  audience  quite  so  readily  as  usual. 
The  environment  was  against  him.  On  his  right  sat  a 
lady  whom  he  discovered  by  a  side  glance  at  the  name 
written  legibly  on  the  napkin  ring  by  her  plate,  to  be  the 
Honorable  Mrs.  Medway,  and  who  was  so  profoundly 
filled  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  her  own  Honor- 
ableness  that  she  feared  to  contaminate  herself  or  her 
daughter  by  conversation  with  her  neighbors  till  she  had 
satisfied  her  mind  by  sure  and  certain  warranty  that  they 
too  belonged  to  the  Right  Set  in  England.  Pending  proof 
to  that  effect,  her  answers  to  his  questions  were  both  curt 
and  monosyllabic.  This  nettled  Florian,  who  prided  him- 
self with  truth  on  his  extensive  knowledge  of  all  the 
"smart  people."  To  his  left,  beyond  Will,  on  the  other 
band,  s^t  a  stolid-looking  gentleman  of  nonconformist 


76 


LINNET 


exterior  and  provincial  garb,  whose  conversation,  though 
ample,  betray^ed  at  times  the  inelegant  idiom  and  accent 
of  the  Humber.  Him  Florian  the  silver-tongued  care- 
fully avoided.  Opposite,  was  a  vacant  place,  on  either 
side  of  which  sat  two  young  girls  of  seventeen  or  there- 
abouts in  the  acntest  stage  of  giggling  inarticulateness. 
Florian  listened,  and  despaired.  Here  was  a  coterie,  in- 
deed, for  a  brilliant  talker  and  a  man  of  culture ! 

But  just  as  they  finished  the  soup,  to  his  intense  relief. 
a  ray  of  light  seemed  to  pierce  of  a  sudden  the  gathering 
gloom  of  the  dinner  table.  The  'drawing-room  door 
opened,  and  through  its  portal  a  Vision  of  Beauty  in  an 
evening  dress  floated,  Hellenic  goddess-wise,  into  the 
salle-a-manger.  It  made  its  way  straight  to  the  vacant 
chair,  nodded  and  smiled  recognition  to  the  bread-and- 
butter  gigglers  and  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Medway,  bowed 
demurely,  continental- way,  to  the  newly  come  strangers, 
and  glided  oflf  at  once,  without  a  pause  or  break,  into  a 
general  flow  all  round  of  graceful,  easy  conversation. 
Florian  gazed,  and  succumbed.  This  was  a  real  live  wo- 
man! Ripe,  but  not  too  ripe,  soft  and  rounded  of  out- 
line, with  a  bewitching  moutl.,  a  row  of  pearly  teeth,  and 
a  cheek  that  wore  only  its  own  natural  roses,  she  might 
have  impressed  at  first  sight  a  less  susceptible  heart  by 
far  than  ihe  epicurean  sage's.  As  she  seated  herself,  she 
dre^v-  from  her  pocket  a  little  cardboard  box,  which  she 
handed  with  a  charming  smile  to  one  of  the  giggling 
inarticulates.  "  Those  are  the  set  you  admired,  I  think," 
she  said,  ^vith  unconscious  grace.  "  I  hope  I've  got  the 
right  ones.  I  was  passing  the  shop  on  my  way  back  from 
my  drive,  an  1  I  thought  I'd  just  drop  in  and  bring  them 
back  as  you  liked  them  so." 

The  giggling  inarticulate  gave  a  jerky  little  scream  of 
unmixed  delight  as  she  opened  the  box  and  took  out  from 
it  with  tremulous  hands  a  pretty  set  of  coral  necklet, 
brooch,  and  earrings.  "  Not  for  me! "  she  cried,  gasping; 
"not  fot  :ne — for  a  present!  You  don't  really  mean  to 
give  them  to  me !     They're  too  lovely,  too  delicious !  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  the  Vision  of  Beauty  responded,  beaming. 
"  I  wanted  to  give  you  some  little  souvenir  some  time  be- 
fore you  went,  and  I  didn't  know  what  you'd  like ;  so,  as 
you  said  you  admired  these,  I  thought  I'd  best  go  in  at 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  I 


m 


once  as  I  passed  and  buy  them.  They're  pretty,  aren't 
they?'; 

Florian  eyed  them  with  the  lenient  glance  of  a  man  of 
taste  who  appraises  and  appreciates  a  beautiful  woman's 
selection.  When  the  bread-and-butter  gigglers  had  ex- 
hausted upon  them  their  slender  stock  of  laudatory  ad- 
jectives— their  oH's  and  just  look's,  and  dear  me,  aren't 
they  beautiful's — he  broke  in  v/ith  his  bland  smile,  and, 
laying  the  necklet  in  a  curve  on  the  white  tablecloth  be- 
fore him,  began  to  discourse  with  much  unction  in  the 
Florianic  tongue,  on  the  aesthetic  points  of  this  pretty 
trifle.  For  it  tvas  a  prettv  necklet,  there  was  no  denying 
that;  its  lance-like  penJ.a'its  were  delicately  shaped  and 
most  gracefully  arranged  ;  it  was  one  of  those  simple  half- 
barbaric  designs  which  retain  to  our  day  all  the  naive 
beauty  of  primitive  unsophisticated  human  workmanship. 
Florian  found  in  it  reminiscences  of  Eve  in  Eden.  And 
lie  said  so  in  that  luxuriantly  florid  style  of  which  he  was 
so  gr'^at  and  so  practical  a  master.  He  called  attention 
with  suave  tones  to  the  distinctly  precious  suggestions  of 
archaic  influence  in  the  shaping  of  the  pendants;  to  the 
exquisite  nature  of  coral  as  a  decorative  object,  cast  up 
blushing  on  our  shores  by  the  ungarnered  sea — a  material 
whose  use  we  inherit  from  our  innocent  ancestors,  when 
wild  in  woods  the  noble  savage  ran,  his  limbs  untram- 
meled  by  clinging  draperies — when  beauty  unadorned 
was  adorned  the  most  in  the  subtle  and  sinuous  curves  of 
its  own  lissome  figure.  Necklets  and  armlets,  he  ob- 
served, with  one  demonstrative  white  forefinger  held 
poised  above  the  salmon,  are  the  string-courses,  so  to 
speak,  of  this  our  natural  human  architecture ;  they  serve 
to  emphasize  and  throw  out  into  stronger  relief  the  struc- 
tural points  of  the  grand  design,  to  call  attention  to  the 
exquisite  native  fulness  of  a  faultless  torso. 

The  giggling  inarticulates  dropped  their  chins  and 
stared.  They  were  not  quite  sure  whether  such  talk  was 
proper.  But  the  Vision  of  Beauty,  more  at  home  in  the 
world,  was  not  in  the  le^st  alarmed  at  Florian's  torrent  of 
eloquence.  On  the  contrary,  she  answered  him  back,  as 
he  himself  remarked  a  little  later  to  WiP,  b'ke  the  lords 
of  the  council,  with  grace,  wisdom,  and  undcrstiinding. 
Florian  brightened,  and  flowed  on.    He  loved  a  listener 


ij^t 


7« 


LINNET 


who  could  toss  the  ball  back  to  him  as  fast  as  he  tossed  it. 
And  the  Vision  of  Beauty  answered  him  back  with  light- 
ning speed,  and  bore  her  share  with  credit  in  the  conver- 
sation. It  was  evident  as  she  went  on  that  she  knew  her 
Europe.  Was  it  Munich  Florian  touched  upon  with  tlie 
light  hand  of  his  craft? — she  discoursed  of  the  Van  dcr 
Weydens  and  Crivellis  in  the  Pinakothek,  like  one  to  the 
manner  born,  and  had  views  of  her  own  which  were  bold, 
if  not  prudent,  about  the  meaning  and  arrangement  of  the 
Aeginetan  marbles.  Was  it  Florence  he  attacked? — she 
was  at  home  at  San  Marco,  and  knew  her  way  like  a 
Baedeker  round  the  rooms  at  the  Pitti.  Will  listened  and 
marveled,  talking  little  himself,  but  giving  Florian  and 
the  Vision  of  Beauty  their  heads.  It  surprised  him  much 
to  find  one  female  brain  could  store  in  its  teeming  cells 
so  much  miscellaneous  knowledge. 

At  last,  at  a  brief  break  in  Florian's  flood  of  speech. 
Will  found  space  to  inquire,  for  a  purpose  of  his  own, 
"  Would  you  mind  mv  asking  where  you  got  that  neck- 
let?" 

The  Vision  of  Beauty  handed  the  lid  of  the  box  to  him. 
It  bore,  on  a  label,  the  name  and  address  of  the  jeweler  at 
whose  shop  she  had  bought  it.  "  It's  on  the  way  up,"  she 
said,  carelessly,  **  to  this  hotel  from  the  city." 

That  one  Shibboleth  betrayed  her.  Florian  started  in 
surprise.  "  Why,"  he  cried  with  open  eyes,  "  then  you 
must  be  an  American." 

The  beautiful  stranger  smiled  and  nodded.  "  Yes,  sir," 
she  said  with  marked  emphasis,  as  if  to  clinch  the  asser- 
tion of  her  western  nationality.  "  I  am  an  American,  and 
I  don't  want  to  hide  it.  But  you  pay  what  you  consider 
a  compliment  to  the  purity  of  my  English  all  the  same,  if 
you  mean  that  till  now  you  haven't  even  suspected  it." 

Florian  made  some  politely  condescending  remark,  of 
the  sort  so  obnoxious  ti.  the  late  Mr.  Lowell,  as  to  the 
correctness  and  delicacy  of  her  English  accent,  and  then, 
in  order  to  show  himself  quite  abreast  of  the  times,  in- 
quired expansively  if  she  knew  the  Van  Rensselaers. 

"  No ;  I  haven't  had  that  pleasure,"  the  Vision  of  Beauty 
answered,  curtly. 

"  The  Livingstones,  perhaps  ?  "  Florian  adventured,  in 
tentative  tones. 


illii! 


HAIL  COLUMBIA! 


79 


The  Vision  shook  her  head. 

"  My  friends  the  Vanderbilts  ?  "  Florian  essayed  once 
more,  eager  to  find  a  connecting  link.  *'  I  stayed  with 
them  at  Newport." 

"  No ;  nor  yet  the  Vanderbilts,"  the  Vision  answered, 
smiling. 

Florian  paused  and  reflected.  "  Ah,  then,  you're  from 
Boston,  no  doubt,"  he  suggested,  with  charitable  prompti- 
tude. The  fine  frientls  he  had  mentioned,  at  whose  houses 
he  had  stopped,  were  all  New  Yorkers. 

"  No ;  not  from  Boston,"  the  Vision  answered  with 
prompt  negation. 

"Washington,  I  suppose?"  Florian  adventured  again. 
They  were  the  only  three  places  a  self-respecting  American 
could  admit  she  came  from  without  shipwreck  of  her  dig- 
nity. He  would  not  pay  so  nnich  grace  and  eloquence  the 
very  bad  compliment,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  of  supposing  it 
could  "  register  "  from  St.  Louis  or  New  Orleans. 

The  pretty  woman  smiled  once  n.ore,  a  self-restrained 
smile.  "  I  come  from  New  York,"  she  said,  simply. 
"  I've  lived  there  long.  It's  my  native  place.  But  there 
are  a  good  many  of  us  there  who  don't  aspire  to  know  the 
Roosevelts  or  the  Livingstone's." 

Florian  withdrew,  with  quiet  tact,  from  this  false  de- 
parture. He  led  aside  the  conversation,  by  graceful  de- 
grees, to  the  old  Dutch  families,  the  New  England  stock — 
Emerson,  Longfellow,  Channing,  the  Concord  set:  How- 
ells,  James,  and  Stedman,  the  later  American  poets.  On 
these  last  he  waxed  warm.  But  the  Vision  of  Beauty, 
herself  cosmopolitan  to  the  core,  was  all  for  our  newest 
school  of  English  bards.  She  doted  on  Lang  and  Austin 
Dobson. 

"  And  have  you  seen  the  last  Illustrated f  "  she  asked, 
after  awhile  with  a  burst  of  enthusiasm.  "  It's  on  the 
table  in  the  salon  there.  And  there  are  three,  oh,  such 
lovely,  lovely  stanzas  in  it, — *  Among  Alps,'  by  Will 
Deverili." 

Her  words  sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  through  Will's  mod- 
est soul.  He  had  published  but  little,  and  'twas  seldom 
he  heard  his  own  name  thus  familiarly  unhandled.  Still, 
a  harassing  doubt  possessed  his  soul.  Could  the  Vision  of 
Beauty  have  seen  his  name  in  the  visitors'  book  of  the 


8o 


LINNE' 


!l!li! 


hotel,  noticed  the  coincidence  with  the  lines  in  the  Illus- 
trated, which  he  had  sent  from  the  Zillerthal,  and  maiui^<  <! 
this  Httle  coup  with  feminine  adroitness,  on  purpose  to  (k- 
ceive  him?  *^et  she  didn't  look  guileful.  With  pontic 
truthfulness,  he  cast  the  evil  suggestion  at  once  behind 
him.  "  I'm  so  glad  you  liked  them,"  he  said,  timidly, 
looking  down  at  his  plate,  and  playing  in  nervous  jerks 
with  his  fork  in  the  chicken.  "  I  wrote  them  in  the  Tyrol 
here.     They're  fresh-fed  from  the  glaciers." 

The  Vision  laid  down  her  knife  and  fork  and  stared  at 
him,  speechless.  "  You're  not  Will  Deverill,"  she  ex- 
claimed, in  some  excitement,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  That's  my  name,"  Will  answered,  somewhat  abashed, 
still  perusing  his  plate.  "  But  I'm  very  little  used  to — to 
— to  meeting  people  who  have  heard  of  it." 

The  pretty  American  clasped  her  hands  with  delight. 
"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,"  she  said,  "  though  I'd 
have  given  you  the  benefit  of  the  Mr.,  of  course,  if  I'd 
known  it  was  you.  I  just  love  your  verses.  I  have 
*  Voices  from  the  Hills '  in  my  trunk  upstairs,  bound  in 
calf,  this  minute." 

"  No ;  not  really  ?  "  Will  cried,  with  a  young  author's 
delight  at  unexpected  recognition. 

"  I'll  go  upstairs  after  dinner  and  fetch  it  down  to  show 
you,"  his  pretty  admirer  answered,  with  some  pride. 
"  And  your  friend,  too.      he  a  poet  ?  " 

"In  soul;  in  soul  v...ly!"  Florian  interposed,  airily, 
dashing  in  at  a  tangent ;  for  it  irked  him  thus  to  play  sec- 
ond fiddle  to  Will's  first  hand,  and  he  longed  to  assert  his 
"  proper  position."  "  I  string  no  sonnets;  I  play  no  har- 
monies ;  I  take  the  higher  place.  I  sit  on  a  critical  throne, 
weighing  and  appraising  all  arts  impartially.  Deverill 
rhymes ;  another  man  paints ;  a  third  man  strums ;  a  fourth 
acts,  or  carves  stone — and  all  for  me.  I  exercise  none  of 
these  base  handicrafts  myself;  but  I  live  supreme  in  the 
Palace  of  Art  they  build,  subordinating  each  in  due  place 
to  my  soul's  delight,  like  a  subtle  architect." 

"  Just  the  .same  as  all  the  rest  of  us,"  the  pretty  Ameri- 
can put  in,  interrupting  his  period.  "  We  all  do  that. 
We  sit  still  and  listen.  The  difficulty  Is — to  produce,  like 
Mr.  Deverill." 

Florian  stood  aghast.    To  think  a  incre  woinnn  should 


HAIL  COLUMBIA! 


8i 


thus  slight  his  pretensions !  But  the  pretty  American,  dis- 
regarding him,  turned  to  Will  once  more.  "  And  your 
friend's  naiiu'?  "  blie  said,  interiogatively. 

"  My  frienil's  name/'  Will  answered,  "  is  Florian  Wood. 
Y(ni  niMMl  know  it." 

*'  Ah,  Mr.  Florian  Wood,"  the  pretty  stranger  echoed; 
"  I've  heard  of  him,  of  course.  I'm  glad  to  meet  him. 
It's  so  nice  to  see  people  in  the  flesh  at  last  one  has  often 
heard  talked  al)out." 

"  But  you've  heard  about  everybody,  Mrs.  Palmer,"  the 
first  giggling  inarticulate  interposed,  with  a  gurgle  of  ad- 
miration. 

Florian  clapped  his  hand  to  his  head  in  theatrical  dis- 


he     cried,     markedly. 
This  is  indeed  a  blow ! 


appointment.     "  Mrs.     Palmer ! 
"  Did  I  hear  aright,  Mrs.  Palmer  ? 
Then,  I  take  it,  you're  married !  " 

From  anyone  else  on  earth,  the  remark  would  have  been 
rude;  from  Florian,  it  was  only  exaggerated  compliment. 
The  Vision  of  Beauty  accepted  it  as  such  with  American 
frankness. 

'*  Well,  you  needn't  go  and  take  a  draught  of  cold  poison 
offhand,"  she  retorted,  a  little  saucily,  "  for  there's  still  a 
chance  for  you.  Remember,  a  woman  may  be  maid,  wife, 
...  or  widow." 

"  Dear  me,"  Florian  ejaculated,  half-choking  himself  in 
his  haste,  "  I  never  thought  of  that.  You  don  c  mean  to 
say " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  Mrs.  Palmer  responded,  cutting  him  short 
with  a  merry  nod.  "  Any  time  these  last  five  years.  Now, 
you're  sorry  you  spoke.  Mr.  Deverill,  may  I  trouble  you 
to  pass  the  mustard  ?  " 


'fiW- 


i 


CHAPTER  XI 

PRIVATE    INQUIRY 

During  the  rest  of  the  young  men's  stay  at  Innsbruck  the 
pretty  American  was,  as  Florian  remarked,  "  a  distinct 
feature."  Such  is  the  fickleness  of  man,  indeed,  that  she 
almost  superseded  poor  Linnet  in  their  minds  as  an  object 
of  interest.  She  was  attractive  beyond  a  doubt ;  she  was 
clever;  she  was  lively;  and  she  was  so  delighted  to  make 
a  real  live  poet's  acquaintance,  that  Will  hardly  knew  how 
to  receive  her  almost  obtrusive  attentions.  She  brought 
him  butter  in  a  lordly  dish,  as  Florian  phrased  it.  That 
same  evening,  in  the  salon,  according  to  promise,  she 
came  dov/n  with  "  Voiceii  from  the  Hills,"  Will's  thin  little 
volume  of  fugitive  verse,  which  she  had  had  gorgeously 
bound  in  red  calf  in  Paris,  and  made  that  sensitive  young 
bard  blush  up  to  his  eyes  with  modesty,  by  insisting  on 
pointing  out  which  pieces  she  liked  best,  in  a  voice  that 
was  audible  to  half  the  guests  in  the  establishment. 
Ossian's  Tomb  was  her  favorite — she  knew  that  one  by 
heart ;  but  Khosrii  Khan  was  sweet  too ;  and  Sister  Clare 
made  her  cry ;  and  then  Gwyn ! — ah,  that  dear  Gzvyn  was 
just  too  lovely  for  anything! 

And  yet,  Will  liked  her.  In  spite  of  her  open  praise, 
and  his  blushes,  he  liked  her.  The  surest  way  to  a  poet's 
heart  is  to  speak  well  of  his  poetry.  And  besides,  he  said 
to  himself,  Mrs.  Palmer  had  discrimination.  She  noted 
in  his  verse  the  metrical  variety,  the  pictorial  skill,  the 
strong  sense  of  color — just  the  qualities  of  his  poor  muse 
on  which  he  himself  most  prided  himself.  No  artist  cares 
for  praise  except  for  those  characteristics  of  his  art  which 
he  feels  to  be  his  strong  ones.  Mrs.  Palmer  gave  Will 
that,  and  he  liked  the  incense. 

Florian  had  said  at  St.  Valentin  that  Will  needed 
change  of  air,  change  of  scene,  change  of  company.  And 
at  Innsbruck  he  got  them.    The  pretty  American,  having 

8a 


PRIVATE  INQUIRY 


83 


found  her  poet,  didn't  mean  to  let  him  sHp  again  too  soon 
from  her  clutches.  With  the  pertinacity  of  her  compa- 
triots, she  fastened  herself  at  once  upon  the  two  young 
Englishmen.  Not  obstructively,  to  be  sure,  not  ungrace- 
fully, not  awkwardly,  not  as  a  European  woman  might 
have  done  the  same  thing,  but  with  that  occidental  frank- 
ness and  oblivion  of  sex  which  makes  up  half  the  charm 
of  the  charming  American.  The  very  next  morning,  at 
the  early  breakfast,  she  happened  to  occupy  a  small  table 
close  by  them.  They  chatted  together  through  the  meal ; 
at  the  end  of  it  Will  mentioned,  in  a  casual  sort  of  way 
that  he  was  going  down  the  street  to  the  shop  where  Mrs. 
Palmer  had  bought  the  coral  necklet.  The  dainty  young 
widow  seized  her  cue.  *T  am  going  down  that  way  my- 
self," she  said.  "  Let  me  come  and  show  you.  I  won't 
take  a  minute  to  run  up  for  my  hat.  I'm  not  one  of  those 
women  who  can  never  go  out  for  a  morning  stroll  without 
spending  half-an-hour  before  their  mirrors,  tittivating." 
And,  in  spite  of  Will's  assurance  that  he  could  find  the 
shop  very  well  by  himself,  she  was  as  good  as  her  word, 
and  insisted  on  accompanying  them. 

She  had  been  charming  in  evening  dress ;  she  was  more 
charming  still  in  her  girlish  straw  hat  and  neat  tailor- 
made  costume,  as  she  tripped  lightly  downstairs  to  them. 
Florian,  by  her  side,  while  they  walked  through  the  streets, 
cast  sheep's  eyes  askance  up  at  her.  Even  Will,  more 
mindful  of  poor  Lmnet's  desertion,  was  not  wholly  insen- 
sible to  that  taking  smile,  those  pearly  white  teeth,  that 
dainty  small  nose,  those  rounded  contours.  They  turned 
down  the  road  in  the  direction  of  the  Maria-Theresien 
Strasse.  Will  knew  of  old  that  quaintest  and  most  pic- 
turesque of  European  High  Streets,  with  its  queer  gabled 
roofs  its  rococo  facades,  its  meditcval  towers,  its  arcades 
and  pillars.  But  to  Florian,  it  all  came  with  the  added 
charm  of  novelty.  Twice  or  thrice  on  their  way,  the 
spirit  moved  him  to  stop  and  perorate.  Each  time,  the 
pretty  widow  cut  him  short  at  once  with  some  quick  retort 
of  truly  American  practicality.  At  the  shop,  Will  selected 
a  second  necklet,  exactly  like  the  one  Mrs.  Palmer  had 
chosen.  "  I  gave  her  nothing  before  I  came  away,"  he 
said,  turning  to  Florian,  and  only  indicating  by  that  very 
indefinite  pronoun,  the  intended  recipient  of  his  beautiful 


H  i'- 


84 


LINNET 


•;l 

III 

gift.  "  One  couldn't  give  her  money.  'Twould  have 
been  a  positive  insult.  But  this  ought  to  look  well  on 
that  smooth  brown  neck  of  hers." 

"  For  your  sister^  of  course/'  Mrs,  Palmer  said,  pointed- 
ly. 

"  No;  not  for  my  sister,"  Will  admitted,  with  a  quiet 
smile.  "  For  a  girl  at  the  inn  we've  just  left  at  St.  Valen- 
tin." 

Mrs.  Palmer  said  "  Oh !  "  'Twas  an  American  oh.  It 
deprecated  the  fact — and  closed  the  episode.  Cosmopoli- 
tan though  she  was,  it  surprised  her  not  a  little  that  Will 
should  allude  to  such  persons  in  a  lady's  company.  But 
there!  these  poets,  you  know — so  many  things  must  be 
condoned  to  them.  Because  they  have  loved  much,  much 
must  be  forgiven  them.  They  have  licence  to  break  hearts 
and  the  most  brittle  of  the  commandments,  with  far  less 
chance  of  blame  than  their  even  Christians. 

Will's  transaction  completed,  Mrs.  Palmer  proceeded  to 
buy  a  second  similar  set  on  her  own  account,  for  presen- 
tation to  ihe  second  of  the  gigRling  inarticulates.  "  Poor 
girl !  "  she  said,  good-humoreclly.  "  she  looked  so  envious 
last  night  when  I  gave  the  other  to  Ev?  Powell,  I  couldn't 
bear  to  think  I'd  left  her  out  in  the  cold.  Thirty  florins, 
I  think  you  said?  Ah,  yes;  that's  twelve  dollars.  Not 
much  to  make  a  poor  little  girl  so  liappy !  " 

From  this,  and  various  other  circumstances  which  oc- 
curred in  the  course  of  their  first  few  days  at  Innsbruck, 
it  began  to  dawn  dimly  upon  Florian's  open  mind  that  their 
American  friend,  though  she  knew  not  the  Van  Rensse- 
laers,  the  Vanderbilts.  and  the  Livingstones,  must  have 
been  "  comfortably  left  "  by  the  late  Mr.  Palmer.  It  was 
clear  she  had  money  for  every  whim  and  fancy.  She  took 
frequ'^nt  drives,  up  the  Brenner  or  down  the  Innthal,  in  a 
roomy  two-horse  carriage  specially  ordered  from  the  hvery 
stables ;  and  she  always  gave  a  seat  to  one  at  least  of  the 
giggling  inarticulates ;  and  then,  "  on  the  girl's  account, 
you  know,"  with  gond-natured  zeal,  asked  Will  and  Flo- 
rian  to  take  part  in  the  expedition.  **  It's  so  good  for 
them,  of  course,"  she  said,  "  to  see  a  little,  when  they  can. 
of  young  men's  society.  They're  each  of  them  1  're  with 
an  invalid  mamma — throat  and  lungs,  poor  things — you 
know,  the  kind  of  person ;  and  before  I  came,  they  had  no- 


PRIVATE  INQUIRY 


85 


body  to  talk  to,  not  even  one  another,  for  they  were  far 
too  much  afraid  of  a  mutual  snub  ever  to  utter  a  syllable. 
I've  tried  to  bring  them  out  a  bit,  and  make  life  worth 
living  for  them.  But  without  a  young  man — at  that  age 
— no  amusement's  worth  anything.  Do  come,  Mr.  D^ver- 
ill — there's  a  good  soul,  just  to  humor  them." 

And  Will  and  Florian,  it  must  be  candidly  allowed,  fell 
in  with  a  good  grace  with  her  philanthropic  projects. 
Though,  to  be  sure,  when  once  the  carriage  got  under  way, 
they  seemed  much  more  desirous  of  amusing  the  pretty 
American  herself,  than  of  seconding  her  schemes  for  draw- 
ing out  the  latent  conversational  powers  of  the  giggling 
inarticulates,  who  contented  themselves  chiefly  with  lean- 
ing back  in  their  seats,  and  listening  open-mouthed  to 
Florian's  flamboyant  disquisitions.  That,  however,  is  a 
detail.  Will  attempted  ac  first  to  pay  his  share  of  the 
carriage;  but  such  interference  with  her  plans  Mrs.  Pal- 
mer most  manfully  and  successfully  resisted.  She  wanted 
to  give  the  girls  a  little  outing,  she  said ;  Will  might  come 
or  he  might  stop;  but  she  wasn't  going  to  let  any  other 
person  pay  for  her  well-meant  attention  to  he.-  poor  little 
protegees.  To  that  point  she  stuck  hard,  throii^h  thick 
and  tliin.  They  must  come  as  her  guests  if  they  came  as 
anything. 

From  this,  and  sundry  other  events  that  came  under 
his  knowledge  by  occulter  channels,  Florian  grew 
strengthened  in  his  idea  that  the  late  Mr.  Palmer,  whoever 
he  might  have  been,  had  at  least  "  cut  up  well."  and,  what 
was  more  to  the  point,  had  cut  tip  entirely  in  his  widow's 
favor.  Now  this  was  business ;  for  Florlnn,  incurious  as 
he  was  by  nature  where  mere  gossip  was  concerned,  liked 
to  know  what  was  what  in  the  matrimonial  market.  As 
he  was  wont  to  put  it  sweetly  to  his  friends  at  the  Savile, 
lie  wasn't  going  to  throw  himself  away  on  a  woman  for 
nothing.  He  had  an  income  of  his  own,  ju.st  sufficient  to 
supply  him  with  the  bare  necessaries  of  life — such  as  stalls 
at  the  opera  and  hansoms  ad  libitum;  and,  this  being  so, 
he  had  no  intention  of  giving  up  that  singular  franchise 
which  young  men  call  "  their  liberty,"  except  in  return  for 
valuable  consideration.  But  if  good  things  were  going, 
he  liked  at  li^ast  to  know  of  them ;  some  day,  perhaps,  if 
some  lady  bribed  him  high  enough,  he  might  possibly  con- 


■3Bt 


I  ' 


86 


LINNET 


:ij, 

Jr.4.  . 

1 

j 

sent  to  retire  by  her  side  into  the  Philistine  gloom  of  wed- 
ded respectability. 

So  he  pushed  his  inquiries  hard  into  the  Vision's  ante- 
cedents, wholly  without  eflfecf,  during  the  first  few  days  of 
their  stay  at  Innsbruck. 

A  few  nights  later,  however,  as  they  sat  in  the  salon 
after  a  long  day's  tramp  to  the  summit  of  the  Patscher 
Kopf,  Florian  found  himself  cast  casually  into  conversa- 
tion with  an  American  old  maid,  belonging  to  the  most 
virulent  type  and  class  of  old  maidhood — "  of  the  cat-kind, 
catty,"  he  said  afterwards  to  Will  Deverill ;  one  of  those 
remarkable  persons  who  have  pervaded  cosmopolitan  ho- 
tels for  years  together,  and  are  on  intimate  terms  with  the 
domestic  skeletons  in  every  cupboard.  Miss  Beard,  as 
she  was  called,  favored  Florian  at  full  length  with  the  his- 
tories and  antecedents  of  the  giggling  inarticulates,  their 
papas  and  mammas,  and  all  their  forebears ;  informing  him 
with  much  gusto  how  one  of  them  had  paid  ninepence  in 
the  pound  to  his  creditors,  and  another  had  been  cashiered 
from  the  navy  for  embezzlement.  Then  she  proceeded  in 
the  same  strain  to  demolish  the  unprepossessing  gentle- 
man of  noncomformist  exterior,  who  had  been  guilty,  it 
seemed,  of  the  social  crime  of  retail  business.  Miss  Beard 
was  inclined,  indeed,  to  believe  he  was  nothing  more  than 
a  retired  chemist ;  but  she  wasn't  even  sure — with  hushed 
and  bated  breath — that  it  mightn't  be  as  bad  as  grocery 
and  provisions.  All  these,  and  many  other  unimportant 
details,  Florian's  soul  endured,  possessing  itself  in  patience 
for  many  minutes  together,  in  the  fervent  hope  that  at  last 
this  living  encyclopaedia  of  genealogical  knowledge  would 
come  round  to  the  character  of  the  Vision  of  Beauty. 

"  And  Mrs.  Palmer,  who  sits  opposite  me,"  he  adven- 
tured gently  after  awhile,  when  Miss  Beard  reached  a 
pause  in  her  caustic  comments ;  "  she  seems  a  nice  little 
thing  in  her  way,  though,  of  course,  a  mere  butterfly.  She 
comes  from  New  York.     I  suppose  you  know  her  ?  " 

Miss  Beard  drew  herself  up  with  that  offended  dignity 
which  only  an  American  woman  of  the  "  very  best  class " 
can  exhibit  in  perfection  when  you  suspect  her  of  an  ac- 
quaintance with  a  person  moving  in  a  social  grade  less  ex- 
alted than  the  sphere  she  herself  revolves  in.    "  I  don't 


PRIVATE  INQUIRY 


87 


know  her,"  she  said,  markedly  ,"  but  I  know,  of  course, 
who  she  is.  She's  the  widow  of  Palmer — the  well-known 
Palmer — the  notorious  Palmer,  who — but  there! — you've 
been  in  the  States ;  you  must  know  all  about  him." 

•'  Not  Palmer  the  murderer !  "  Florian  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise.    "  She's  too  young  for  that,  surely." 

'*  No ;  not  Palmer  the  murderer,"  Miss  Beard  responded 
in  a  very  shrill  voice  with  considerable  acerbity.  "  Hr 
was  at  least  a  gentleman.  I  can't  say  as  much  for  this 
lady's  husband.  She's  the  widow  of  Palmer,  the  dry- 
goodsman  in  Broadway." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  Florian  cried,  deeply  interested  in  this 
discovery — for  it  meant  mut^h  money.  "  I  remember  the 
place  well — a  palatial  building  in  the  Renaissance  style  at 
the  corner  of  a  street  near  the  junction  with  Fifth  /venue. 
These  princes  of  commerce  in  your  Westero  world  repre- 
sent in  our  luidst  to-day  the  great  signiors  of  the  Adriatic 
who  held  the  gorgeous  East  in  fee,  and  whose  Gothic  fac- 
ades, rich  in  arch  and  tracery,  still  line  the  long  curve  of 
the  Grand  Canal  for  us.  They  are  the  satraps  of  finance. 
The  world  in  our  times  is  ruled  once  more — as  in  Venice 
of  old,  in  the  heyday  of  its  splendor — by  the  signet-ring  of 
the  merchant.  Palmer  was  one  of  these — a  paladin  of 
silken  bales,  a  Dodge  Dandolo  of  Manhattan,  a  potentate 
in  the  crowded  marts  of  the  Samarcand  of  the  Occi- 
dent." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  Miss  Beard  retorted  in 
an  acrid  tone,  eyeing  him  sternly  through  her  pince-nez, 
"  but  I  say  he  was  a  dry-goodsman." 

Florian  descended  at  a  bound  from  the  open  empyrean 
to  the  solid  earth  of  commonplace.  "  Well,  at  any  rate, 
he  was  rich,"  he  said,  letting  the  paladins  slide.  "  He 
must  have  died  worth  millions." 

"  His  estate  was  proved,"  Miss  Beard  said,  curtly,  "  at 
a  sum  in  dollars  which  totals  out — let  me  see — fives  into 
35 — ah,  yes,  to  exactly  seven  hundred  and  eighty-four 
thousand  pounds  sterling." 

Florian  gave  a  little  gasp.  "  That'll  do,"  he  said,  with 
slow  emphasis.  "  And  he  left  it  ?  "  he  suggested,  after  a 
second's  pause,  with  an  interrogative  raising  of  his  broad 
white  forehead. 


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"  And  he  left  it,  every  cent,"  Miss  Beard  responded, 
"  without  deduction  of  any  sort,  to  that  fly-away  httle  in- 
anity." 

Florian  drew  a  deep  breath.    "  Then  siie's  rich,"  he 


said. 


rich    beyoncf    the    utmost    dreams    of 


musmg ; 
avarice." 

"  Well,  of  course  she  is,"  Miss  Beard  answered,  with  a 
sharp  little  snap,  as  though  every  one  knew  that.  "If 
she  wasn't,  could  she  go  tearing  about  Europe  as  she  does, 
herself  and  her  maid,  buying  everything  she  sees,  and 
making  presents  right  and  left — to  everyone  she  comes 
across.  She'd  give  her  own  soul  away  if  anybody  asked 
her  for  it.  Little  emptyheaded  fool !  She's  not  fit  to  be 
trusted  with  the  use  of  money.  But,  of  course,  one  can't 
know  her,  however  rich  she  may  be.  We  draw  the  line  in 
the  States  at  keeping  shop.  And,  besides,  she  was  never 
brought  up  among  cultivated  people." 

As  she  spoke,  Florian  noted  several  things  silently  to 
himself.  He  noted,  first,  that  Mrs.  Palmer  spoke  the 
English  tongue  many  degrees  more  correctly,  and  more 
pleasantly  as  well,  than  her  would-be  critic.  He  noted, 
second,  that  her  very  generosity  was  counted  for  blame  to 
her  by  this  narrower  nature.  He  noted,  third,  that  in 
republican  America,  even  more  than  in  monarchical  and 
aristocratic  England,  Mrs.  Palmer's  cleverness,  her  in- 
formation, her  reading,  her  culture,  were  as  dust  in  the 
balance  in  Society's  eyes,  compared  with  the  damning  and 
indelible  fact  that  her  lale  lamented  husband  had  owned 
a  dry-goods  store.  But,  being  a  worldly-wise  man, 
Florian  noted  these  things  in  his  own  heart  alone.  Ex- 
ternally, he  took  no  overt  notice  of  them.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  continued  his  talk  in  the  same  bland  and  honey- 
sweet  tone  as  ever.  "  Still,  she'd  be  a  catch  in  her  way," 
he  said,  with  a  condescending  smile,  "  for  any  man  who 
didn't  object  to  swallow  her  antecedents." 

"  She  would,"  Miss  Beard  replied  ,with  austere  self- 
respect,  "  if  people  care  to  mix  in  that  sort  of  society. 
For  myself,  I've  been  used  to  a  different  kind  of  life.  / 
couldn't  put  up  with  it." 

Florian  was  audacious.  He  posed  the  one  last  question 
he  still  wished  to  ask,  boldly.  "  And  there's  no  awkward 
clause,  I  suppose,"  he  said,  without  even  the  apology  of  a 


PRIVATE  INQUIRY 


89 


blush,  "  in  her  husband's  will,  of  that  nasty  so-long-as-my- 
said-wife-remains-unmarried  character  ?  " 

Miss  Beard  took  up  her  Galignani  with  crushing  cold- 
ness. She  didn't  care  to  discuss  such  people's  prospects 
from  such  a  standpoint.  Their  matrimonial  affairs  were 
beneath  her  notice.  For  fine  old  crusted  prejudice  of  a 
social  sort,  commend  me,  so  far  as  my  poor  knowledge 
goes,  to  the  members  of  good  New  Yorker  families.  "  To 
the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,"  she  murmured, 
acridly,  without  raising  her  eyes,  "  the  property's  left  for 
her  own  sole  use  and  benefit,  without  any  restriction.  But 
I'm  sure  I  dun't  know.  If  you  want  to  find  out  you'd 
better  ask  her.  I  don't  burden  my  mind  with  these  peo- 
ple's business." 

Then  Florian  knew  the  Vision  of  Beauty  was  a  catch 
not  to  be  despised  by  a  man  of  culture.  Such  wealth  as 
that,  no  gentleman  could  decline,  in  justice  to  himself,  if 
she  gave  him  the  refusal  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XII 


i     '! 


THE  MADDING  CROWD 

Andreas  Hausberger  was  a  dictator.  He  kept  his  own 
counsel  till  the  moment  of  action  grew  ripe  for  birth  in 
the  womb  of  time;  then,  heeding  no  man,  he  gave  his 
orders.  Three  days  after  Will  Deverill's  departure  from 
St.  Valentin,  'le  called  up  Linnet  to  his  office  suddenly. 
"  The  dressmaker  has  brought  home  your  new  costume," 
he  said  in  his  curt  way.  "  Go  upstairs  and  put  it  on. 
Then  come  down  and  let  me  see  you." 

Linnet,  much  wondering  what  this  mood  might  portend, 
went  up  to  her  own  room  and  tried  on  her  new  gewgaws. 
Puffed  white  sleeves,  laced  corset,  crimson  kirtle,  high 
shoes,  flowered  kerchief  at  her  bosom,  silver  dirk  in  her 
hair;  Linnet  wasn't  over-vain,  as  girls  go  in  this  world, 
but  tricked  out  in  such  finery,  she  gazed  in  her  glass,  and, 
to  tell  the  whole  truth,  admired  herself  consumedly.  If 
only  her  Englishman  could  have  seen  her  in  that  dress! 
But  she  stifled  her  sigh,  and  tripped  lightly  downstairs 
again,  with  the  buoyancy  of  youth,  when  conscious  of  a 
perfectly  becoming  costume,  for  Andreas  Hausberger's 
scrutiny. 

The  wirth  scanned  her,  well  satisfied.  "  On  Monday," 
he  said,  briefly,  in  that  iron  voice,  "  we  set  out  on  our 
tour,  and  go  first  to  Innsbruck." 

It  was  earlier  by  a  week  that  he  at  first  intended ;  but 
he  saw  it  would  be  hard,  if  he  stopped  at  St.  Valentin,  to 
keep  Fridolin's  hands  from  Franz's  throat  much  longer. 
So,  by  way  of  minimizing  the  adverse  chances,  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  start  as  soon  as  possible  for  his  winter  season. 
He  meant  to  begin  modestly  with  entertainments  at  hotels 
among  tlu-  Tyrolese  winter  resorts,  and  the  towns  of  the 
Riviera;  and  then,  when  his  troupe  had  got  over  its  first 
access  of  stage  fright,  and  grown  used  to  an  audience,  to 
go  across  for  the  summer  to  England  or  America, 

90 


THE  MADDING  CROWD 


91 


his  own 
birth  in 
jave  his 
re  from 
jddenly. 
istume," 
t  it  on. 

portend, 
Jwgaws. 
le,  high 
c  in  her 
J  world, 
ss,  and, 
Jly.  If 
dress ! 
i^nstairs 
us  of  a 
)erger's 

)nday," 
on  our 

d ;  but 

itin,  to 

longer. 

ade  up 

season. 

hotels 

of  the 

ts  first 

nee,  to 


So,  for  the  next  few  days  Linnet  was  busy  as  a  bee  with 
preparations  for  her  first  journey  into  the  great  wide 
world  outside  the  Zillerthal.  As  yet,  her  native  valley 
had  bounded  her  view — she  had  never  gone  even  as  far  as 
jenbach.  Expectation  and  preparation  kept  her  mind  well 
employed  during  that  busy  M'eek,  and  prevented  it  from 
dwelling  too  much  or  too  long  on  the  kindly  Englander, 
who  had  vanished  from  her  ken  across  the  sea  to  England. 
For,  that  he  had  gone  straight  home,  Linnet  never  even 
doubted.  On  the  afternoon  of  Andreas  Hausberger's  ex- 
citing announcement,  indeed,  a  little  registered  parcel  came 
by  post  for  her  to  St.  Valentin.  It  bore  the  postmark  of 
Wilten,  where  Will  had  intentionally  dropped  it  into  the 
letter-box,  on  purpose  to  conceal  from  her  his  exact  where- 
abouts. Linnet  scanned  it  close,  and  read  the  name  cor- 
rectly, but  was  too  innocent  of  the  topography  of  her  na- 
tive country  to  know  that  Wilten  is  the  name  of  a  village 
on  the  outskirts  of  Innsbruck.  When  she  asked  Andreas 
Hausberger  where  Wilten  was,  a  little  later  in  the  day, 
without  showing  him  the  postmark,  he  confirmed  her  be- 
lief by  answering  at  once  that  'twas  a  town  in  England, 
not  far  from  Salisbury.  So  he  had  thought  of  her  over  sea 
then,  and  sent  her  this  beautiful  costly  present  from  his 
own  country.  She  tried  it  on  that  night  before  her  tiny 
square  mirror.  As  Will  had  rightly  judged,  it  set  off  the 
rich  tints  of  her  creamy  brown  neck  to  the  best  advantage. 

A  beautiful  gift !  A  real  lady  might  have  worn  it ! 
Later  on,  when  Linnet  had  diamonds  and  rubies  at  com- 
mand, there  was  no  trinket  she  prized  among  all  her 
jewels  like  Will  Deverill's  coral. 

At  last  the  eventful  morning  itself  arrived.  The  little 
troupe  set  out  on  foot  down  the  mountain  to  Mairhofen. 
There,  their  boxes,  sent  on  over-night,  awaited  them. 
They  drove  in  a  large  open  brake  to  Jenbach — Andreas 
Hausberger,  Franz  Lindner,  Linnet  herself,  Philippina, 
and  the  two  other  singers  who  composed  the  party.  At 
Jenbach,  they  descended  at  the  door  of  the  railway  station. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life.  Linnet  saw,  half-alarmed,  a 
puffing  and  snorting  machine,  a  sort  of  iron  devil,  breath- 
ing flames  like  purgatory,  burst  with  smoke  and  stench 
upon  the  crowd  by  the  waiting-room.  Though  she  had 
heard  all  about  it  often  enough  before,  and  could  sec  for 


I » 


I  !| 


i    I 


92 


LINNET 


^.. 


ill 


herself  that  this  great  scurrying  creature,  for  all  its  noise 
and  bustle,  kept  rigidly  to  the  rails  as  it  approached  the 
platform,  she  yet  drew  back  in  pure  physical  terror  and 
surprise  at  the  swiftness  and  irresistibility  of  the  fire- 
fiend's  motion. 

She  had  scant  time  to  think,  however,  for  scarce  had  it 
come  to  rest  when  Andreas  Hausberger,  little  heeding, 
bundled  them  all  unceremoniously  into  a  third-class  com- 
partment; and  before  Linnet  had  leisure  to  recover  her 
self-possession,  the  engine  had  uttered  one  wild  discordant 
shriek,  and  with  ringing  of  bells  and  rattlings  of  wheels  in 
her  ears,  she  found  herself,  willy-nilly,  beyond  hope  of 
release,  whirled  along  at  the  break-neck  pace  of  what  you 
and  I  know  as  an  Austrian  slow  train,  over  the  jolting 
rails,  up  the  broad  Inn  valley. 

In  spite  of  her  terror — for  she  knew  the  railway  as  yet 
chiefly  by  hearing  reports  of  collisions  and  accidents — 
Linnet  enjoyed  to  the  full  that  first  steam-borne  journey. 
She  whirled  past  turreted  towers  like  Hall  and  Volders, 
which  to  you  and  me  commend  themselves  as  the  a\>solute 
quintessence  of  old-world  quaintness,  but  which,  to  Lin- 
net's young  eyes,  accustomed  only  to  St.  Valentin  and  the 
grassy  Alps,  envisaged  themselves  rather  in  glowing  hues 
as  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  all  their  glory.  They 
had  been  late  to  start,  and  their  drive  from  Mairhofen  had 
been  tolerably  leisurely,  so  dusk  was  closing  in  when  they 
arrived  at  Innsbruck.  Oh,  the  bustle,  the  din.  the  whirl- 
ing awe  of  that  arrival !  Electric  lamps  lighted  up  the 
broad  Platz  in  front  of  the  station ;  on  either  side  rose 
great  hotels,  grander  and  more  palatial  than  any  buildings 
on  earth  Linnet's  poor  little  fancy  had  ever  yet  dreamed 
of.  Not  to  one  of  these,  however,  of  course,  did  Andreas 
Hausberger  take  his  little  troupe  of  minstrels.  But  even 
the  humlJer  inn  on  the  south  side  of  the  Theresien  Strasse, 
to  which  they  repaired  on  foot,  bearing  their  boxes  be- 
tween them,  seemed  to  Linnet's  inexperienced  and  impres- 
sionable eye  a  most  princely  caravanserai.  After  the  noise 
and  bustle  in  that  busy  railway  junction,  which  made  her 
%rain  whirl  with  the  unaccustomed  dizziness  of  a  great 
city,  the  comparative  rest  and  quiet  of  the  Golden  Eagle 
seemed  a  positive  relief  both  of  mind  and  body.  That 
night  she  slept  little.     Her  head  swam  with  excitement; 


fo 

w 

A 

a 

m 


st 
a 


THE  MADDING  CROWD 


93 


for  this  was  the  first  step  on  her  journey  through  the 
world,  which  might  lead  her  perhaps  at  last  to  England. 
And  in  England,  she  thought  toherselionce  or  twice  with 
a  little  thrill,  who  could  tell  but  peradventure  she  might 
meet  .  .  .  Will  Deverill? 

For  she  knew  little  as  yet  of  how  big  the  world  is,  and 
how  long  you  may  live  in  it,  going  to  and  fro,  without 
necessarily  knocking  up  against  this  one  or  that  of  its  com- 
ponent units. 

Next  morning  they  rose  betimes,  and  went  out  into  the 
street  to  view  the  city.  For  to  Linnet,  as  to  Mrs.  Palmer, 
a  city  it  was — and  a  very  great  one.  Such  streets  and 
streets  seemed  to  frighten  and  appal  her.  Florian  had  ad- 
mired in  that  picturesque  old  capital  of  a  mountain  land, 
the  antiquated  tone,  the  eighteenth-century  flavor,  the 
mediaeval  survivals,  the  air  as  of  a  world  elsewhere  gone 
from  us  utterly.  But  to  Linnet,  though  it  was  beautiful 
and  impressive  too,  it  was  above  all  things  magnificent, 
grandiose,  stately,  imposing.  She  gazed  with  open  eyes  at 
the  Golden  Roof,  admired  the  bronze  statues  at  the  base 
of  the  Anna  Column,  looked  up  with  silent  awe  at  the  front 
of  the  Landhaus,  and  thought  the  Rudolfsbrunnen,  with 
its  attendant  griffins  and  dragons,  a  wonderful  work  of 
art  for  the  world's  delectation. 

Philippina  went  with  her,  her  companion  on  the  alp. 
Linnet  noticed  with  much  surprise — for  she  knew  not  as 
yet  the  difference  in  fibre  between  them — that  Philippina, 
though  as  interested  as  herself  in  the  shops  and  tlieir  con- 
tents, seemed  wholly  unimpressed  by  these  other  and  vast- 
ly more  attractive  features  of  a  civilized  city.  For  Lin- 
net had  been  gifted  by  nature,  to  the  fullest  degree,  with 
the  profound  Tyrolese  artistic  susceptibility.  Though 
her  mind  came  to  art  as  a  blank  page,  it  responded  to  the 
stimulus,  once  presented  to  its  ken  c.s  the  sensitive  plate  of 
a  photographic  camera  responds  in  every  line  to  the  in- 
spiring picture. 

As  they  strolled  through  the  town,  by  Andreas  Haus- 
berger's  express  desire — for  the  wise  impresario  had  ar- 
ranged their  first  appearance  for  that  very  evening,  and 
wished  the  girls  to  come  to  it  fresh,  after  a  morning's 
exercise — they  paid  comparatively  litde  heed  to  what  most 
of  us  regard  as  by  far  the  most  striking  characteristic  of 


i  :; 


i   \ 


I   i 
t   I 

;  1 


I    f 


I  I 


94 


LINNET 


II 


IH 


M    >!ll 


Innsbruck — the  great  limestone  crags  that  seem  on  every 
side  to  tower  and  overhang  the  very  roofs  of  the  city. 
They  were  accustomed,  indeed,  to  crags,  and  made  very 
small  case  of  them.  It  was  the  houses,  the  shops,  the 
noise,  the  crowd,  the  gaiety,  that  chiefly  struck  them. 
Innsbruck  to  Linnet  was  as  a  little  Paris.  But  as  they 
went  on  their  way  through  the  bustling  streets,  they  came 
at  last  to  a  church  door^  which  Linnet's  prof'  und  religious 
nature  could  hardly  pass  by  without  one  mmute'j  prayer 
for  Our  Lady's  aid  at  this  critical  turning-point  of  her 
artistic  history. 

Philippina,  nothing  loth,  for  her  part,  opined  it  could 
do  them  no  harm  to  make  favor  above  with  the  blessed 
saints  for  this  evening's  work  by  a  little  Pater  Noster. 
The  blessed  saints  dearly  love  attentions :  much  may  be 
done  with  them  by  a  small  wax  candle!  So  they  opened 
the  door,  and  stepped  into  the  Hofkirche. 

Even  those  of  us  who  know  well  the  world,  and  its  art, 
can  remember  vividly  the  strai.ge  start  of  surprise  with 
which  we  qi'azed  round  for  the  first  time  on  that  oddest 
and  most  bizarre  of  Christian  temples.  It  isn't  so  much 
beautiful,  indeed,  as  unexpected  and  startling.  To  push 
open  the  church  door  and  find  oneself  at  once  ringed  round 
and  guarded  close,  as  it  were,  by  that  great  circle  of  mailed 
knights  and  bronze-wimpled  ladies,  who  watch  the  long 
sleep  of  the  kneeling  Maximilian  on  his  cenotaph  in  the 
center,  gives  one  a  thrill  of  a  novel  sort  from  which  some 
tinge  of  dim  awe  can  hardly  ever  be  wholly  absent.  There 
they  stand,  on  their  low  pedestals,  a  congregation  of 
bronze  ancestors  round  their  descendant's  tomb — Theo- 
doric  the  Ostrogoth  and  King  Arthur  the  Briton,  Mary  of 
Burgundy  and  Eleonora  of  Portugal — strange  eflForts  of 
struggling  art  in  its  first  faint  steps  towards  the  attainment 
of  the  beautiful — naif,  ungainly,  crude,  rising  only  once 
or  twice  within  measurable  distance  of  the  ideal  in  the  few 
figures  cast  in  metal  by  Peter  Vischer  of  Nuremberg. 
But  to  Linnet,  a  woman  grown,  instinct  with  the  innate 
artistic  taste  of  her  countrymen,  yet  innocent  till  then  of 
all  forms  of  art  save  the  saints  and  purgatories  of  her 
mountain  chapels,  the  Hofkirche  was  a  glimpse  of  siv.wc 
new  nnd  unseen  world  of  infinite  possibilities.  She  went 
through    it   all   piecemeal    with   open-mouthed   interest. 


THE  MADDING  CROWD 


95 


Philippina  could  only  laugh  at  the  quaint  vizors  of  the 
knights,  the  quainter  dresses  of  the  ladies.  But  Linnet 
was  almost  shocked  Philippina  should  laugh  at  them. 
She  herself  half  forgot  her  intended  prayer  to  Our  Lady 
in  her  delight  and  surprise  at  those  wonder  f ul  figures  and 
those  beautiful  bas-reliefs.  She  read  all  the  names  on 
the  bases  conscientiously ;  they  didn't  mean  much  to  her, 
to  be  sure — her  historical  ideas  didn't  get  as  far  as 
"  Clovis,  King  of  the  Franks,"  or  even  as  "  Count  Fred- 
erick of  Tyrol  with  the  Empty  Pockets  "  ;  but  in  a  vague 
sort  of  way  she  gathered  for  herself  that  these  were 
statues  of  archdukes  and  mighty  heroes,  keeping  watch 
and  ward  silently  round  the  great  dead  emperor  who  knelt 
in  the  center  on  his  marble  sarcophagus.  Good  luck,  too, 
attended  them.  The  little  hump-backed  sacristan,  seeing 
two  pretty  girls  looking  through  the  grating  at  the  reliefs 
on  its  sides,  relaxed  his  stony  heart  without  the  customary 
kreuzers.  and  admitted  them  within  the  railing  to  inspect 
at  their  leisure  those  exquisite  pictures  in  marble  which 
Thorwalcijen  declared  the  most  perfect  work  of  their  kind 
in  the  whole  of  Christendom.  Philipp"  la  found  the 
dresses  quite  grotesquely  old-fashioned ;  but  Linnet,  hard- 
ly knowing  why  she  lingered  so  long,  gazed  at  each  scene 
in  detail  with  the  profoundest  interest. 

While  down  in  the  town  Linnet  was  thus  engaged,  high 
up  in  the  hills  Will  Deverill  sat  alone  by  Mrs.  Palmer's 
side  on  an  outcrop  of  rock  near  the  summit  of  the  Lanser 
Kopf.  Florian  had  gene  off  for  a  minute  or  two  round 
the  corner  by  the  mountain  indicator,  with  the  giggling 
inarticulates.  Mrs.  Palmer,  pointing  her  moral  with  the 
ferrule  of  her  parasol  on  the  grass  in  front  of  her,  was 
discoursing  to  Will  earnestly  of  his  work  and  his  pros- 
pects. "  I  want  to  see  you  do  something  really  great,  Mr. 
Deverill,"  she  said,  with  genuine  fervor,  looking  deep 
into  his  eyes ;  "  something  larger  in  scale  and  more  worthy 
of  your  genius — something  that  gives  full  scope  to  your 
dramatic  element.  I  don't  like  to  see  you  frittering  away 
your  talents  on  these  exquisite  little  lyrics — ^beautiful  gems 
in  their  way,  to  be  sure,  but  that  way  not  the  highest.  I 
want  to  see  you  settle  down  for  a  long  spell  of  hard  work 
at  some  big  undertaking — ^an  epic,  a  play,  a  grand  opera,  a 
masterpiece.    1  know  you  could  do  it  if  only  you  took  the 


i  i 


96 


LINNET 


III 


!h!i 


time.  You  should  go  to  some  quiet  place  where  there's 
nothing  to  distract  you,  and  make  your  mind  up  to  work, 
to  write  something  more  'lasting  than  even  that  lovely 
Gzvyn,  or  that  exquisite  Ossian!" 

Will  looked  down  and  sighed.  'Tis  pleasant  to  be  ap- 
preciated by  a  beautiful  woman.  And  every  man  thinks, 
if  he  had  but  the  chance,  he  could  show  the  world  yet  the 
sort  of  stuff  that's  in  him.  "  I  only  wish  I  could,"  he 
answered,  regretfully.  "  But  I've  my  living  to  earn. 
That  ties  me  down  still  to  the  treadmill  of  journalism. 
When  my  holiday's  over — the  first  for  two  years — I  must 
get  back  once  more,  well  content,  to  Fleet  Street  and 
drudgery." 

Mrs.  Palmer  sighed  too.  She  felt  his  difficulty.  Her 
parasol  played  more  nervously  on  the  grass  than  before. 
She  answered  nothing,  but  she  thought  a  great  deal.  How 
small  a  matter  for  her  to  secure  this  young  poet  whom  she 
admired  so  much,  six  months  of  leisure  for  an  immortal 
work — and  yet,  how  impossible!  There  was  only  one 
way,  she  knew  that  very  well ;  and  the  first  step  towards 
that  way  must  come,  not  from  her,  but  from  this  modest 
Will  Deverill. 

'Twas  a  passing  thought,  half  formed,  or  scarce  half 
formed,  in  the  pretty  widow's  mind.  But  nothing  came 
of  it.  As  she  paused,  and  sighed,  and  played  trembling 
with  her  parasol,  and  doubted  what  to  answer  him,  Florian 
came  up  once  more  with  the  giggling  inarticulates,  "  Well, 
Mr.  Wood?  "  she  said,  looking  up,  just  by  way  of  saying 
something,  for  the  pause  was  an  awkward  one. 

"  Pardon  me,"  the  mannikin  of  culture  answered  in  his 
impressive  way ;  "  my  name  is  Florian." 

"  But  /  can't  call  you  so,"  Mrs.  Palmer  answered,  re- 
covering herself,  with  a  merry  little  laugh. 

"  It's  usual  in  Society,"  ^"lorian  responded  with  truth. 
"  Just  ask  Will  Deverill." 

Will  nodded  assent.  "  Quite  true,"  he  admitted. 
"  Men  and  women  alike  in  London  know  him  only  as 
Florian.  It's  a  sort  of  privilege  he  has,  an  attribute  of 
his  own.  He's  arrogated  it  to  himself,  and  the  world  at 
large  acquiesces  in  his  whim,  and  grants  it." 

"  It  makes  things  .seem  so  much  more  real  c^nd  agree- 
able, you  see,  as  Dick  Swiveller  said  to  the  marchioness," 


THE  MADDING  CROWD 


97 


in  his 
ed,  re- 
truth. 


Florian  continued  blandly.  "  Now  suppose  we  five  form 
an  elective  family,  a  little  brotherhood  of  our  own,  a  free- 
masonry of  culture,  and  call  one  another,  like  brothers  and 
sisters,  by  our  Christian  names  only!  Wouldn't  that  be 
delightful!  I've  just  been  explaining  to  Ethel  and  Eva 
that  I  mean  henceforth  to  Ethel  and  Eva  them.  Soul 
gets  nearer  to  soul  without  these  flimsy  barriers.  I'm 
Florian ;  this  is  Will ;  and  you,  Mrs.  Palmer,  your  Chris- 
tian name  is ?  " 

The  pretty  widow  drew  back  with  a  little  look  of  alarm. 
"  Oh  no,"  she  said,  shortly ;  "  I  never  could  tell  you  my 
given  name  for  anything.  It's  much  too  dreadful."  She 
pulled  out  a  pencil  from  the  pocket  at  her  side.  "  See 
here,"  she  said  to  Will,  writing  down  one  word  for  him  on 
the  silver-cased  tablets  that  hung  pendant  from  her  deli- 
cate Oriental  chatelaine,  "  there's  a  name,  if  you  like,  for 
two  Puritan  parents  to  burden  the  life  of  their  poor  in- 
nocent child  with!  Don't  tell  Mr.  Wood — or  Florian  if 
he  wishes  it;  he'd  make  fun  of  it  behind  my  back,  I'm 
perfectly  certain.  I  know  his  way.  To  him  nothing,  not 
even  a  woman's  name,  is  sacred." 

Will  glanced  at  the  word  curiously.  He  couldn't  for- 
bear a  quiet  smile.  "  It's  bad  enough,  I  must  admit,"  he 
answered,  perforce.  The  Vision  of  Beauty  had  been 
christened  Jerusha! 

"  But  I  make  it  Rue  for  short,"  she  added,  after  a 
moment,  with  a  deprecating  smile. 

Florian  caught  at  the  word,  enraptured.  "  The  very 
thing ! "  he  cried,  eagerly.  "  Capital,  capital,  capital ! 
*  There's  rue  for  you,  and  here's  some  for  me :  we  may  call 
it  herb-o'-grace  o'  Sundays.'  But  Rue  shall  be  your 
weekday  name  for  the  Brotherhood.  Let's  read  the  roll- 
call!  Florian,  Will,  Rue,  Ethel,  Eva!  Those  are  our 
names  henceforth  among  ourselves.  We  scorn  for- 
malities!    No  mystery  for  us.     We  abolish  the  misters!" 

And  so  indeed  it  was.  As  Will,  Rue,  and  Florian,  those 
three  of  the  Elective  House  knew  each  other  thereafter. 


i-,  I 


CHAPTER  XIII 


A  FIRST  NIGHT 


*TwAS  with  no  little  trepidation  that  Linnet  arrayed  her- 
self that  eventful  night  for  her  first  appearance  on  this  or 
any  other  public  platform.  When  her  hair  was  dressed 
and  her  costume  complete,  Philippina  declared,  with  good- 
humored  admiration,  she  looked  just  lovely — for  Philip- 
pina at  least  was  never  jealous  of  her.  And  Philippina 
was  right:  Linnet  did  look  beautiful.  She  had  tied  her 
crossed  kerchief  very  low  about  the  neck,  so  as  to  leave 
her  throat  bare  for  the  better  display  of  Will  Deverill's 
corals.  They  became  her  admirably.  Andreas  Haus- 
berger  inspected  his  prima  donna  with  well-satisfied  eye. 
The  wise  impresario  had  heard,  of  course,  where  the  neck- 
let came  from ;  but  that  didn't  in  the  least  disturb  his  seren- 
ity. Will  Deverill  was  gone,  evaporated  into  space; 
and  the  coral  at  least  was  "  good  for  trade,"  inasmuch  as 
it  enhanced  and  set  off  to  the  utmost  the  nut-brown  alp- 
girl's  almost  gipsy-like  beauty.  For  the  sake  of  trade, 
Andreas  could  pardon  much.  And  Will  Deverill  in  Eng- 
land was  no  serious  rival. 

At  eight  o'ciock  sharp  the  concert  was  to  begin  at  one  of 
the  big  hotels.  To  the  guests  in  the  house  it  was  just  a 
matter  of  '*  some  music,  I  hear,  to-night — the  usual  thing, 
don't  you  know — Tyrolese  singers  with  a  zither  in  the 
salon/'  But  to  Liimet,  oh,  the  difference!  It  was  the 
most  important  musical  event,  the  most  momentous  per- 
formance in  the  world's  history.  She  trembled  like  a 
child  at  the  thought  of  standing  forth  and  singing  her 
simple  mountain  songs  alone,  in  a  fine-furnished  room, 
before  all  those  grand  well-dressed  and  well-fed  Britons. 
She  would  have  given  thousands  (in  kreuzers),  if  only 
she  had  them,  to  forego  that  ordeal.  But  Andreas  Hans- 
berger  said  "  You  must,"  and  she  had  to  obey  him.  And 
the  blessed  Madonna,  in  Britannia  metal,  on  an  oval  pend- 
ant, gave  her  courage  for  the  trial. 

98 


l!!!l{!l 


A  FIRST  NIGHT 


99 


By  eight  o'clock  sharp,  then,  the  tronpe  trooped  in. 
Electric  light,  red  velveted  chairs,  soft  carpet  on  the  floor, 
gilded  mirrors  by  the  mantlepiece  and  opposite  console. 
So  much  grandeur  and  magnificence  fairly  took  poor  Lin- 
net's breath  away.  'Twas  with  difficulty  she  faltered 
across  the  open  space  to  a  chair  by  the  table  which  was 
placed  at  one  end  of  the  room  for  the  use  of  the  perform- 
ers. Then  she  raised  her  eyes  timidly — to  know  the 
worst.  Some  twenty-five  people,  more  or  less  listless  all 
of  them,  composed  the  audience.  Some  leaned  back  in 
their  chairs  and  crossed  their  hands  resignedly,  as  who  ex- 
pects to  be  bored,  and  makes  up  his  mind  betimes  to  bear 
his  boredom  patiently.  Some  read  the  latest  Times  or  the 
Vienna  papers,  hardly  deigning  to  look  up  as  the  perform- 
ers entered.  'Twas  a  lugubrious  function ;  more  chilling 
reception  prima  donna  never  met  with.  Linnet  clutched 
the  blessed  Madonna  in  her  pocket  convulsively.  One 
breath  of  mild  applause  alone  reached  her  ears.  "  Pretty 
girl,"  one  stout  Briton  observed  aloud  in  his  own  tongue 
to  his  plentiful  mate.  Linnet  looked  down  and  blushed, 
for  he  was  staring  straight  at  her. 

"  Let's  sit  it  out,  here,"  Florian  exclaimed  in  the  smok- 
ing-room. The  folding  doors  stood  open,  so  that  all 
might  hear;  but  their  group  sat  a  little  apart — Will,  Rue, 
and  he — in  the  farther  corner,  away  from  the  draught,  and 
out  of  sight  of  the  musicians.  "  It's  more  comfortable 
so — just  the  family  by  itself;  and  besides,  I've  a  theory  of 
my  own  that  one  should  hear  the  zither  through  an  open 
door;  it  mitigates  and  modifies  the  metallic  twang  of  the 
instrument." 

Will  and  Rue  were  all  acquiescence.  Next  to  a  tete-d,- 
tcte,  a  parti-d-trois  is  the  pleasantest  form  of  society.  So 
they  kept  their  seats  still,  in  the  rocking-chairs  by  the 
corner,  and  let  the  sound  float  idly  in  to  them  through  the 
open  portal. 

Linnet  waited,  all  trembling.  Thank  heaven,  it  wasn't 
her  part  to  begin.  Franz  Lindner  came  first  with  a  solo 
on  the  zither.  Bold,  confident,  defiant,  with  his  hat  stuck 
a  little  on  one  side  of  his  head,  and  his  feather  in  his  band, 
turned  Robbler-wise,  wrong  way,  quite  as  jaunty  as  ever, 
Franz  faced  his  audience  as  if  his  life  had  been  passed  in 
first-class  hotels.,  and  an  Edison  light  had  been  the  lamp 


100 


LINNET 


I:  ,  ll: 


cf  his  childhood.  Nothing  daunted  or  disconcerted  by 
the  novelty  of  the  circumstances,  he  played  his  piece 
through  with  a  certain  reckless  brilliancy,  wholly  in  keep- 
ing with  the  keynote  of  the  Tyrolese  character.  Florian 
observed  oufside,  with  connoisseur  complacency,  that  the 
fellow  had  brio.  But  the  audience  went  on  unmoved  with 
its  Times  and  its  Tagblatt.  The  audience  was  chilling; 
Franz  Lindner,  accustomed  to  his  own  mercurial  and 
magnetic  fellow-countrymen,  could  hardly  understand  it. 
His  self-love  was  mortified.  He  had  expected  a  triumph, 
a  sudden  burst  of  wild  applause;  he  received  instead  a 
faint  clap  of  the  hands  from  Ethel  and  Eva,  and  an  en- 
couraging nod  from  the  mercantile  gentleman  of  non- 
conformist exterior. 

Franz  sat  down — a  smouldering  and  seething  volcano. 

Then  carne  Linnet's  turn.  She  rose,  all  tremulous,  in 
her  pretty  costume,  with  her  beautiful  face  and  her  shrink- 
ing timidity.  Old  gentlemen  peeped  askance  over  the 
edge  of  their  papers  at  the  good-looking  girl ;  young  ladies 
took  stock  of  her  abundant  black  hair  and  her  dainty  ker- 
chief. *"  She's  going  to  sing,"  Ethel  whispered.  "  Isn't 
she  pretty,  Eva?  And  jrist  look,  how  very  odd,  she's  got 
a  necklet  exactly  like  the  ones  Mrs.  Palmer  gave  us !  " 

As  they  gazed  and  gurgled,  Linnet  opened  her  mouth, 
and  began  her  song,  quivering.  She  trembled  violently, 
but  her  very  trembling  increased  the  nightingale  efifect  of 
those  beautiful  trills  which  form  so  marked  a  feature  in 
all  Tyrolese  singing.  Her  throat  rose  and  fell ;  her  clear 
voice  flooded  the  room  with  bell-like  music.  At  the  very 
first  line,  the  old  gentlemen  laid  their  Times  contentedly 
on  their  laps,  and  beamed  attention  through  their  spec- 
tacles; the  old  ladies  let  the  knitting-needles  stand  idle  in 
their  hands,  and  looked  up  with  parted  lips  to  listen. 
Andreas  Hausberger  was  delighted.  Never  in  her  life 
had  Linnet  sung  so  before.  Occasion  had  brought  her 
out.  And  he  cotild  judge  of  her  here  more  justly  than 
at  hom° ;  he  was  quite  sure  now  he  had  found  a  treasure. 

But  at  tlie  very  first  sound  of  her  well-known  voice, 
Will  smarted  from  his  chair.  He  clapped  his  hands,  fingers 
9,3art.  to  his  cheeks  in  wonder,  and  stared  hard  at  Florian. 
Florian  in  return  opened  his  eyes  very  wide,  leaned  back 
in  his  seat  with  a  sudden  smile  of  recognition,  and  stared 


A  FIRST  NIGHT 


lOI 


hard  at  Will,  with  a  certain  amused  indulgence 


Then 
m  surprise, 


both  with  one  voice  cried  out  all  at  once 
''That's  Linnet!" 

After  that,  it  was  Florian  who  first  broke  the  forced 
silence.  "  I  see  in  this  the  finger  of  fate,"  he  murmured 
slowly.  But  Will  didn't  want  to  see  the  finger  of  fate,  or 
any  other  abstraction;  what  he  wished  to  see,  then  and 
there,  was  his  recovered  Linnet.  It  was  thoughtless,  per- 
haps, to  disturb  her  song ;  but  young  blood  is  thoughtless. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  walked  unobstrusively 
but  hastily  into  the  room  in  front,  and  took  a  seat  near 
the  door,  just  opposite  Linnet.  Andreas  Hausberger 
didn't  notice  him,  his  eyes  were  firmly  fixed  on  Linnet's 
face,  watching  anxiously  to  see  how  his  pupil  would  acquit 
herself  in  this  her  first  great  ordeal.  But  Linnet — Linnet 
saw  him,  and  felt  from  head  to  foot  a  great  thrill  break 
over  her,  like  a  wave  of  fire,  in  long  undulating  movement. 
The  wave  rose  from  her  feet  and  coursed  hot  through  her 
limbs  and  body,  till  it  came  out  as  a  crimson  flush  on  her 
neck  and  chin  and  forehead ;  then  it  descended  once  more, 
thrilling  through  her  as  it  went,  in  long  undulatii.  j  move- 
ment from  her  neck  to  her  feet  again.  She  felt  it  as  dis- 
tinctly as  she  could  feel  the  blessed  Madonna  clenched 
hard  in  her  little  fist.  And  she  knew  now  she  loved  him. 
Her  Englishman  was  there,  whom  she  thought  she  had 
lost ;  he  had  come  to  hear  her  sing  her  first  song  in  public ! 

Strange  to  say,  the  interruption  didn't  impair  her  per- 
formance. For  one  second  she  faltered,  as  her  eyes  met 
his;  for  one  second  she  paused,  while  the  wave  coursed 
through  ':er.  But  almost  before.  Andreas  had  time  for 
anxiety,  she  had  recovered  at  once  her  full  self-possession. 
Nay,  more ;  Will's  presence  seemed  actually  to  encourage 
her.  She  sang  now  with  extraordinary  force  and  bril- 
liancy ;  her  voice  welled  from  her  soul ;  her  notes  wavered 
on  the  air  as  with  a  sensible  quivering. 

That  was  all  Will  knew  at  the  time,  or  the  rest  of  the 
audience  cither.  They  were  only  aware  that  a  beautiful 
young  woman  in  Tyrolese  costume  was  rendering  a  moun- 
tain song  for  them  as  they  never  before  in  their  lives  had 
heard  such  simple  melodies  rendered.  But  to  Linnet  her- 
self, a  strange  thing  had  happened.  As  her  eyes  met 
Will's,  and  that  wave  of  fire  ran  resistlessly  through  her, 


f" 


102 


LINNET 


she  was  conscious  of  a  weird  sense  she  had  never  felt  be- 
fore, a  sudden  failure  of  sound,  a  numb  deadening  of  the 
music.  It  was  all  a  vast  blank  to  her.  She  heard  not  a 
note  she  herself  was  uttering.  Her  ears  were  as  if  stopped 
from  without  and  within ;  she  knew  not  how  she  sang,  or 
whether  she  sang  at  all ;  all  she  knew  was,  that,  come  what 
might,  for  Will's  dear  sake,  she  must  keep  on  singing. 
The  little  access  of  terror  this  weird  seizure  gave  her  in 
itself  added  much  to  the  quality  of  her  performance. 
Unable  to  correct  herself  and  keep  herself  straight  in  her 
singing  by  the  evidence  of  her  ears,  she  devoted  extrava- 
gant and  incredible  pains  in  her  throat  and  bosom  to  the 
mere  muscular  effort  of  note-production  and  note-modu- 
lation. She  sang  her  very  best — for  Will  Deverill  was 
there  to  listen  and  applaud  her!  Franz  Lindner!  Wiio 
talked  of  Franz  Lindner  now?  She  could  pour  out  her 
whole  soul  in  one  dying  swan-song,  row  she  had  found 
once  more  her  dear,  kind,  lost  Englander ! 

Instinctively,  as  she  sang,  her  hand  toyed  with  the 
coral — her  left,  for  with  the  right  she  still  clasped  Our 
Lady.  A  grand  Frau  had  crept  in  just  behind  Will's 
back — a  smiling,  fair-haired  Frau,  all  soft  cheeks  and 
dimpled  chin,  and  aglow  with  diamonds.  She  had  seated 
hersel5  on  a  chair  by  Will  DeveriU's  side.  Herr  Florian, 
too,  had  crept  in  at  the  same  time,  and  taken  the  next  place 
beside  the  fair-haired  lady.  They  nodded  and  smiled  anH 
spoke  low  to  one  another.  At  the  sight,  Linnet  clutched 
the  coral  necklace  still  harder.  She  was  a  very  great  lady 
— oh,  the  diamonds  in  her  ears! — and  she  talked  to  Will 
Deverill  with  familiar  carelessness ! 

And  as  Linnet  clutched  the  necklet,  a  shade  broke  over 
Rtie  Palmer's  face.  With  a  quick  little  gasp,  she  leaned 
across  to  Will,  growing  paler  as  she  recognized  that  famil- 
iar trinket.  "  Why,  this  is  the  girl,"  she  whispered, 
"  from  the  inn  at  St.  Valentin." 

And  Will  whispered  back,  all  unconscious,  "  Yes ;  this 
is  the  girl.  And  now  you  can  see  why  I  sent  her  the 
necklet !  *^ 

Through  the  rest  of  that  song,  there  was  breathless 
silence.  Al  its  end,  the  old  gentlemen  and  ladies,  after  a 
short  hushed  stillness,  broke  into  a  sudden  little  burst  of 
applause.    There  was  a  moment's  interval,  and  then  the 


A  FIRST  NIGHT 


103 


ir 


Jcmonstration  renewed  itself  more  vigorously  than  before. 
People  turned  to  one  another  and  said,  "  What  a  beautiful 
voice ! "  or,  "  She  sings  divinely !  "  By  this  time  the 
loungers  who  held  aloof  in  the  smoking-room  were  crowd- 
ing about  thf*  doorway.  A  third  time  they  clapped  their 
hands ;  and  at  each  round  of  applause,  Linnet,  alternately 
pale  and  flushed  with  excitement,  dropped  a  little  moun- 
tain curtsey,  and  half  cried,  and  half  smiled  at  them. 
Her  hearing  had  returned  with  the  first  symptom  of  clap- 
ping hands ;  she  could  catch  the  vague  murmur  of  satis- 
fied criticism;  she  could  catch  Andreas  Hausberger's 
voice  whispering  low  in  an  aside,  "  Very  well  sung,  Lin- 
net." But  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Will,  and  on  Will  alone ; 
and  when  Will  framed  his  lips  to  one  word  of  approba- 
tion, the  hot  blood  rushed  to  her  cheeks  in  a  torrent  of 
delight  that  at  last  she  had  justified  her  Englander's 
praises. 

Linnet  was  the  heroine  of  that  evening's  performance. 
Andreas  Hausberger  sang  "  He  was  a  jager  bold "  • 
Philippina,  looking  arch,  twanged  the  thankless  zither. 
But  the  audience  waited  cold  till  'twas  Linnet's  turn  again. 
Then,  as  she  rose,  they  signified  their  approval  once  more 
by  another  little  storm  of  applause  and  encouragement. 
Linnet  curtsied,  and  curtsied,  arid  curtsied  again,  and 
stared  straight  at  Will  Deverill.  This  second  time  she 
sang  in  less  fear  and  trembling;  she  could  hear  her  own 
notes  now,  and  Will's  face  encouraged  her.  She  acquitted 
herself,  on  the  whole,  even  better  than  before.  Her  rich 
pure  voice,  though  comparatively  untrained,  exhibited  it- 
self at  its  best  in  that  pathetic  little  ballad  of  her  native 
hills,  "  The  Alp-girl's  Lover."  She  sang  it  most  dramati- 
cally, with  one  hand  pressed  hard  on  her  heaving  bosom. 
At  the  end,  the  audience  clapped  till  Linnet  was  covered 
with  blushes.  A  mere  scratch  performance  before  some 
casual  tourists  in  the  drawing-room  of  an  hotel ;  but  to 
Linnet,  it  came  home  as  appreciation  and  praise  from  the 
grandest  of  gentlefolk. 

She  sang  three  songs  in  all.  Her  hearers  would  gladly 
have  made  it  six ;  but  Andreas  Hausberger  knew  his  trade, 
and  stuck  firm  to  his  programme.  When  all  was  finished, 
the  foreign  Herrschaft  crowded  round;  Herr  Florian 
shook  Linnet's  hand ;  Herr  Will  pressed  it  tenderly.    The 


104 


LINNET 


grand  lady  with  the  diamonds  was  graciousness  itself. 
"  With  a  voice  like  that,*  my  child,"  she  said,  "  you 
shouldn't  be  singing  here ;  you  should  be  training  for  the 
stage  in  some  great  musical  center."  Many  of  the  other 
guests,  too,  gathered  round  and  congratulated  her.  It 
was  noised  abroad  in  the  room  that  this  was  the  pretty 
peasant  girl's  absolute  debut,  and  that  Mr.  Deverill  and 
Mr.  Wood  had  met  her  as  a  sennerin  at  an  inn  in  the 
Zillerthal.  More  voices  than  one  praised  her  voice  en- 
thusiastically. But  Will  Deverill  whispered  low,  "  You 
have  done  yourself  justice.  As  I  told  you  at  St.  Valen- 
tin, so  I  tell  you  again — Heaven  only  knows  how  high  that 
voice  may  carry  you." 

One  thing  Linnet  noticed  for  herself,  unprompted. 
That  first  appearance  in  operatic  peasant  dress  as  a 
musician  in  a  troupe,  had  raised  her  at  a  bound  in  the  scale 
of  social  precedence.  At  St.  Valentin,  she  was  an  alp- 
girl  ;  at  Innsbruck,  all  those  fine-dressed  ladies  and  gentle- 
men accepted  her  at  first  sight  as  a  public  singer.  They 
spoke  to  her  with  a  politeness  to  which  she  was  hitherto 
unused ;  they  bent  forward  towards  her  with  a  quiet  sort 
of  deference  and  equality  which  she  felt  instinctively  the 
very  same  persons  would  never  have  shown  to  the  sen- 
nerin in  her  chalet.  Their  curiosity  was  less  frank ;  their 
questions  were  less  blunt  and  better  put  than  she  was  used 
to.  It  was  partly  the  costume,  no  doubt,  but  partly  also 
the  function:  she  was  a  peasant  girl  in  the  Zillerthal;  at 
Innsbruck  she  was  a  member  of  the  musical  profession. 

She  had  only  a  second  or  two  with  Will  that  night. 
While  the  other  guests  crowded  round  her,  uttering  their 
compliments  for  the  most  part  in  rather  doubtful  German, 
which  Linnet  answered  (by  Andreas  Hausberger's  wise 
advice)  in  her  pretty  broken  English,  Will  dropped  but  a 
few  words  of  praise  and  congratulation.  After  all  was 
over,  however,  and  they  were  going  away  for  the  night 
to  the  Golden  Eagle,  he  stood  at  the  door,  bare-headed, 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  to  say  good-by  to  her.  Andreas 
Hausberger's  keen  eye  Vvatched  their  interview  close. 
Will  held  Linnet's  hand— that  transfigured  Linnet's,  in 
her  snow-white  sleeves  and  her  corset-laced  bodice — held 
it  lingering  in  his  own  with  a  mutual  pressure,  as  he  mur- 


A  FIRST  NIGHT 


105 


mured,  not  too  low  for  Andreas  to  overhear  ('twas  wisest 
so),  "  I'm  pleased  to  see  you  wore  my  necklet." 

And  Linnet,  half-afraid  how  she  should  answer  him 
aright,  with  Andreas  standing  by  and  straining  his  ear 
for  every  word,  replied  in  German,  with  a  timid  smile, 
raising  her  eyes  to  his  shyly,  '*  I'm  so  glad  you  were 
pleased.  I  wanted  to  wear  it.  It's  a  beautiful  present. 
Thank  you  so  very  much  for  it." 

That  was  all.  She  had  no  more  talk  than  just  that  with 
her  Englander.  But  she  went  back  to  the  Golden  Eagle, 
and  lay  awake  all  night  thinking  of  him.  Of  him,  and  of 
the  fair-haired  Frau  who  sat  smiling  by  his  side.  That 
fair-haired  Frau  gave  Linnet  some  pangs  of  pain.  Not 
that  she  was  jealous ;  that  ugliest  of  all  the  demons  the  t 
beset  human  nature  had  no  place,  thank  Heaven,  in  Lin- 
net's great  heart.  But  she  thought  to  herself  with  a  sigh 
how  much  fitter  for  Will  was  that  grand  fair  Frau  than 
ever  she  herself  could  be.  How  could  she  expect  him  to 
make  anything  of  her,  when  he  could  sit  and  talk  all  day 
long  in  great  covered  courts  with  grand  ladies  like  that, 
his  natural  equals?  He  could  think,  after  the  Frau.  no 
more  of  her,  than  she,  after  him,  could  think  of  Franz 
Lindner.  And  yet — and  at  that  thought  the  billowy  wave 
of  fire  broke  over  her  once  more  from  head  to  foot — he 
had  left  the  grand  lady  in  the  room  outside  to  come  in  and 
hear  her  song  the  moment  he  recognized  her ! 

In  the  salon  that  same  evening,  when  Linnet  was  gone, 
Rue  stood  talking  for  a  minute  by  the  fireside  to  Will 
Deverill.  "  She  sings  like  an  angel,"  the  pretty  Ameri- 
can said,  with  unaffected  admiration  of  the  peasant  girl's 
gifts.  "  What  a  glorious  voice.  Florian's  quite  right. 
It's  a  pity  she  doesn't  get  it  properly  trained  at  once.  It's 
fit  for  anything." 

"  So  I  think,"  Will  answered,  looking  her  frankly  in 
the  face.  "  She  needs  teaching,  of  course — the  very  best 
teaching.  But  if  only  she  gets  it,  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt 
she  might  do  what  she  likes  with  it." 

"  And  she's  beautiful,  too,"  Rue  went  on,  without  one 
marring  touch  of  any  feminine  but.  "  How  queenly  she'd 
look  as  a  Mary  Stuart  or  a  Cleopatra !  Your  necklet  suits 
htr  well."    She  paused,  and  reflected  a  second.    "  It's  a 


io6 


LINNET 


pity,"  she  went  on,  musingly,  as  if  half  to  herself,  "  she 
shouldn't  have  the  brooch  and  the  earrings  to  match  it !  " 

And  next  day,  sure  enough,  at  the  Golden  Eagle,  about 
one  o'clock,  when  Linnet  went  up  to  her  own  room  after 
early  dinner,  she  found  on  her  dressing-table  a  small  card- 
board box  containing  some  coral  ornaments  to  go  with  the 
necklet,  and  this  little  inscription  in  a  feminine  hand  inside 
it : — "  For  Linnet,  from  one  who  admireu  last  night  her 
beautiful  singing." 

Then  Linnet  knew  at  least  that  the  fr.ir-haired  lady  too 
had  a  great  heart,  and  owed  her  no  grudge  for  the  posses- 
sion of  Will  Deverill's  necklet.  For  she  divined  by  pure 
instinct  what  admirer  had  sent  them. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


AND   IF   FOREVER 


"  It's  no  use  wasting  words,"  Florian  observed,  with  de- 
cision. "  As  our  old  friend  Homer  justly  remarks, '  Great 
is  the  power  of  words ;  wing'd  words  may  make  this  way 
or  that  way.'  I'm  a  practical  man  myself:  I  stick  close 
to  the  facts;  they're  solid;  they're  tangible;  they're  not 
to  be  evaded.  I  won't  allow  myself  to  be  argued  out  of  a 
reasonable  conviction.  I  put  it  like  this:  if  it  was  right 
for  you,  as  you  admitted,  to  leave  St.  Valentin,  then,  by 
parity  of  reasoning,  it's  right  for  you  now  to  leave  Inns- 
bruck instantly.  Mill,  Whately,  and  Jevons  would  allow 
that  that's  logic.  Why  did  we  come  here?  Partly,  no 
doubt,  to  instruct  ourselves  in  the  contents  of  this  most 
interesting  town;  but  mainly,  I  submit,  to  deliver  you 
forthwith  from  your  milkmaid's  clutches.  Why  should 
we  go  away  again?  Partly  because  we've  seen  all  that 
Innsbruck  contains  of  historical  or  artistic;  but  largely, 
also,  because  the  milkmaid  insists  upon  pursuing  us 
through  the  land  and  jingling  her  bells  till  she  compels 
us  to  listen  to  her." 

"  She  didn't  know  we  were  here,"  Will  interjected, 
brfstling  up. 

"  She  didn't  know  we  were  here,  that's  true ;  but  she's 
followed  us  all  the  same,  cow-bells  and  pails  and  all,  and 
we  must  break  away  at  once  from  her.  I've  said  so  to 
Rue,  and  Rue  fully  agrees  with  me.  As  I  told  you  be- 
fore, if  you  mean  the  girl  harm, — well  and  good ;  I  don't 
meddle  with  you.  But  if  you  mean  to  go  on  shilly-shally- 
ing like  this, — saying  good-by  for  ever — and  sending  her 
coral  necklets ;  meeting  her  again  at  hotels — and  applaud- 
ing her  rapturously ;  saying  good-by  once  more — and  let- 
ting it  run,  for  aught  I  know  to  the  contrary,  to  diamonds 
and  rubies — why,  what  I  say  is  this,  I've  seen  the  same 
thing  tried  on  more  than  once  before,  and  my  experience 

107 


io8 


LINNET 


m 


:    I 


is,  the  man  who  begins  by, meaning  only  to  flirt  with  a 
girl,  sinks  down,  down,  down,  by  gradual  degrees,  till  at 
last  he  loses  every  relic  of  self  respect — and  ends  by 
marrying  her ! " 

Will  fingered  his  under  lip,  and  knit  his  brow  reflective- 
ly. "  At  least,"  he  said,  "  I  must  see  her  and  tell  her  I'm 
going  away  again." 

Stern  justice  once  more  embodied  itself  as  Florian. 
"  Certainly  not"  the  little  man  answered,  with  an  em- 
phatic shake  of  the  head.  "  If  you  say  good-by,  she'll 
want  to  know  where  you're  going.  If  she  knows  where 
you're  going,  she'll  want,  of  course,  to  follow  you.  If 
you  don't  mean  her  harm,  then,  hang  it  all,  my  dear 
fellow,  you  must  mean  her  good — which  is  far  more 
dangerous.  There  are  only  two  possible  motifs  in  such 
an  affair — ou  le  hon,  ou  le  maiivais.  You  must  mean  the 
first,  if  you  don't  mean  the  second.  I've  talked  it  over 
with  Rue,  and  Rue  entirely  supports  me.  For  the  poor 
girl's  own  sake,  she  says,  it's  your  duty  at  once  to  run 
away  from  the  spot,  post  haste,  and  leave  her." 

A  little  later  in  the  day,  on  the  slopes  behind  Muhlan, 
Will  thrashed  it  out  himself,  tete-d-tcte  with  Rue,  seated 
close  by  her  side  on  the  grassy  upland.  "  She's  in  love 
with  you,  poor  thing,"  Rue  said  very  seriously.  "  You 
mayn't  see  it  yourself ;  sometimes,  you  know,  Mr.  Deverill 
— I  can't  always  say  Will;  it  seems  so  forward — some- 
times, you  know,  you  men — even  the  best  of  you — are 
unkind  to  us  poor  women  through  pure  excess  of  modesty. 
You  don't  realize  how  much  a  girl  may  really  think  of 
you.  Your  very  want  of  self-conceit  may  make  you  blind 
to  her  feelings.  But  consider  what  you  must  seem  to  a 
child  like  Linnet.  You're  a  gentleman,  a  poet,  a  man  of 
the  great  world,  wholly  removed  from  her  sphere  in 
knowledge,  position,  culture.  She  looks  up  to  you, 
vaguely  and  dimly  no  doubt,  with  a  shrinking  respect,  as 
some  one  very  grand  and  great  and  solemn.  But  your 
attentions  flatter  her.  Florian  has  told  me  all  about  how 
you  met  her  at  St.  Valentin.  Now,  even  a  lady,"  and 
Rue  looked  down  as  she  spoke,  and  half  stifled  a  sigh, 
"  even  a  lady  might  be  pleased  at  attracting  the  notice  of 
such  a  man  as  you ;  how  much  more  then  a  peasant  girl ! 
I  watched  her  close  last  night  when  you  first  came  into 


AND  IF  FOREVER 


109 


the  room,  and  I  saw  such  a  red  flush  break  over  her  throat 
and  cheeks,  Hke  a  wave  surging  upwards,  as  I  never  saw 
before  on  any  woman's  face — though  long  ago  .  .  .  my- 
self .  .  .  when  1  was  very  young  ...  1  think  I  may 
have  felt  it.  And  I  knew  what  it  meant  at  once;  I  said 
to  myself  as  I  looked,  *  That  girl  loves  Mr.  Deverill.'  " 

"  I  think  she's  fond  of  me/'  Will  admitted  modestly. 
"  I  didn't  notice  it  so  much  myself,  I  confess,  at  St. 
Valentin ;  but  last  night,  I  won't  deny  I  watched  her  hard, 
and  I  could  see  she  was  really  very  nleased  to  meet  me." 

Rue  looked  grave.  "  Mr.  Deverill,"  she  said  in  a 
serious  voice,  "  a  woman's  heart  is  not  a  thing  to  trifle 
with — I'm  an  old  married  woman  myself,  you  see,  and  I 
can  speak  to  you  plainly.  You  may  think  very  little  your- 
self— for  I  know  you're  not  conceited — of  the  eflfect  you're 
likely  to  produce  on  women.  I've  known  cruel  things 
done,  before  now,  by  very  good  men,  just  because  they 
never  realized  how  much  store  women  set  on  their  passing 
attentions.  You've  only  to  look  at  Linnet  to  see  she  has 
a  deeply  passionate  nature.  Now,  I  beg  of  you,  don't 
play  fast  and  loose  with  it  any  longer  If  you  don't  mean 
anything,  don't  see  her  again.  The  more  you  see  of  her, 
the  worse  it  will  be  for  her." 

Will  listened,  and  ruminated.  Rue's  words  had  more 
effect  on  him  by  far  than  Florian's.  For  one  thing,  she 
was  a  woman,  and  she  treated  the  matter  earnestly,  where 
Florian  only  treated  it  with  the  condescending  flippancy 
of  his  native  clubland.  To  Rue,  in  her  true  womanliness, 
an  alp-girl's  heart  was  still  a  sacred  object;  to  Florian, 
'twas  a  toy  for  the  superior  creature,  man,  as  he  said,  "  to 
play  skittles  with."  But  then,  again.  Florian  had  dwelt 
much  to  him  on  the  chance  of  his  finally  marrying  Linnet. 
To  Will  himself,  that  contingency  seemed  too  remote  to 
contemplate..  As  he  sat  by  Rue's  side  on  the  grassy  up- 
land, and  heard  Rue  speak  so  gently  to  him  in  her  well- 
turned  sentences,  the  distance  between  a  refined  and  edu- 
cated lady  like  that  and  a  musical  alp-girl  appeared  to  his 
mind  too  profound  to  be  bridged  over.  Was  it  likely,  in 
a  world  which  held  such  women  as  Rue,  he  ever  could 
marry  such  a  girl  as  I  innet  ?  Now,  Rue  herself  never 
spoke  of  marriage  between  Linnet  and  himself  as  even 
possible.    She  took  it  for  granted  the  end  must  be  either 


i  J 


no 


tINNET 


Linnet's  ruin  or  Linnet's  desertion.  And  all  she  urged 
him  was  not  to  break  the  poor  child's  heart  for  her.  So, 
where  Florian's  worldly  wisdom  fell  somewhat  flat  on  his 
ears,  Rue's  feminine  sympathy  and  tact  produced  a  deep 
eflfect  upon  him. 

"  It'll  make  her  very  sad,  I'm  afraid,  if  she  doesn't  see 
me  again,"  he  said,  looking  down,  with  masculine  shyness. 

"  I  know  it  will,"  Rue  answered,  pushing  her  point  with 
advantage.  "  I  could  see  that  last  night.  But  all  the 
more  reason,  then,  you  shouldn't  let  it  go  any  further." 

"  Well,  but  must  I  never  see  her  again  ?  "  Will  inquired 
with  an  anxious  air.  For  his  own  sake,  even,  that  counsel 
of  perfection  was  a  very  hard  saying. 

Rue's  face  grew  still  graver.  "  No ;  I  think  you  must 
never  see  her  again,"  she  answered,  seriously.  "  Remem- 
ber what  it  involves.  Remember  what  she  is;  how  daz- 
zled she  must  be  by  a  gentleman's  advances.  The  more 
you  see  of  her,  the  more  she'll  think  of  it — the  more  she'll 
love  you,  confide  in  you,  lean  on  you.  That's  only 
womanly.  We  all  of  us  do  it  .  .  .  with  a  man  we  admire 
and  feel  greater  and  better  than  us.  And  you  and  she, 
after  all,  are  both  of  you  human.  Some  day,  perhaps, 
carried  away  by  a  moment  of  emotion — "  She  broke  oflf 
quite  suddenly,  and  let  her  silence  say  the  rest.  "  And 
then,"  she  went  on,  after  a  long  pause,  "  when  all's  lost 
and  all's  done,  you'll  be  sorry,  poor  child,  you've  spoilt 
and  wrecked  her  whole  life  for  her.  .  .  ."  She  paused 
again,  and  grew  crimson.  "  Mr.  Deverill — Will — "  she 
said,  faltering,  **  I  wouldn't  speak  to  you  like  this  if  I 
didn't  feel  I  was  doing  it  to  save  this  poor  child  in  the 
end  from  untold  misery.  It's  not  only  the  material  con- 
sequences I'm  thinking  of  now  (though  those  are  bad 
enough),  but  the  girl's  own  heart — for  I  can  see  she  has 
got  one.  If  you  don't  go  away,  sooner  or  later  you'll 
break  it.  What  other  end  can  there  be  to  an  affair  like 
this  between  a  poet  like  you  and  a  Tyrolese  peasant 
girl?" 

What  other  end,  indeed !  Will  knew  it,  and  felt  it.  He 
saw  she  was  right.  And  her  words  thrilled  through  him. 
When  a  beautiful  woman  discusses  your  personal  affec- 
tions in  such  a  strain  as  this  it  isn't  in  human  nature  (.in 
its  male  embodiment)  not  to  tingle  through  and  through 


AND  IF  FOREVER 


III 


in  pure  instinctive  response  with  her.  While  Rue  spoke 
like  that,  Will  felt  he  must  indeed  see  no  more  of  Linnet. 
"  But  where  must  I  go?  "  he  asked,  vaguely,  just  to  dis- 
tract the  talk  from  his  own  potential  misdeeds.  Their 
original  idea  was  Cortina  and  the  Dolomites. 

The  innocent  question  fell  in  pat  with  Rue's  plans. 
Already  that  morning  she  had  talked  it  over  with  Florian ; 
and  Florian,  for  the  furtherance  of  his  own  designs,  had 
agreed  it  would  be  best  for  them  to  alter  their  route,  as 
things  stood,  in  favor  of  a  new  project  which  Rue  sug- 
gested. She  was  going  to  Meran  herself,  for  a  month  or 
six  weeks  of  bright  autumn  weather,  on  her  way  down 
to  Italy.  Why  shouldn't  they  come  there,  too,  she  asked, 
and  keep  the  family  together?  Florian,  not  unmindful 
of  her  seven  hundred  thousand  pounds,  admitted  at  once 
the  cogency  of  her  reasoning.  It  would  be  quite  delight- 
ful, he  said — in  point  of  fact,  consummate.  But  would 
Will  consent  to  it?  Then  Rue  expounded  to  him  her 
views  about  Will  and  his  future  in  life — how  he  ought  to 
retire  to  the  wilderness  for  forty  days,  after  the  manner 
of  the  prophets,  to  meditate,  and,  if  possible,  to  begin 
some  great  work,  which  should  bring  in  the  end  name 
and  fame  and  honor  to  him.  Florian  admitted,  just  to 
humor  her,  that  if  Will  had  the  chance,  and  chose  to 
buckle  to,  he  might  really  produce  something  quite  worth 
looking  at.  "  Persuade  him  to  it,"  he  said,  in  his  mellifl- 
uous tones.  "  To  you.  Rue,  it  comes  so  easy,  you  see,  to 
be  persuasive.  On.  word  from  your  lips  is  worth  fifty 
from  mine.  Make  him  stop  away  for  three  months  from 
that  dear,  delightful,  distracting  London,  and  begin  some 
big  thing  that  the  world  must  listen  to." 

To  inspire  a  great  work  is  a  mission  in  life  for  a  wo- 
man— to  be  some  Petrarch's  Laura,  some  Dante's 
Beatrice.  So,  when  Will  asked  plaintively,  "  Where  must 
I  go?"  that  afternoon,  Rue  answei'ed  with  prompt  de- 
cision, "  Why,  of  course,  to  Meran.  I'm  going  there 
myself.    You  must  come  with  us  and  stop  there." 

"What  for?"  Will  inquired,  not  wholly  untouched  in 
soul — for  proximity  counts  for  much,  and  they  were  sit- 
ting close  together — that  the  pretty  American  should  so 
desire  his  company. 

Then  Rue  began  to  explain,  to  persuade,  to  reason. 


112 


LINNET 


And  reason  from  those  lips  was  profoundly  conclusive. 
No  syllogism,  on  earth  could  have  failed  to  convince  from 
them.  Meran  was  the  prettiest  place  in  South  Tyrol,  siie 
said;  the  pleasantest  climate  for  the  autumn  months,  the 
loveliest  scenery.  The  sun  always  shone,  and  the  birds 
always  sang  there.  Though  it  froze  underfoot,  you  could 
bask  on  the  hill-tops.  But  that  wasn't  all; — and  she 
leaned  forward  confidentially — she  wanted  to  speak  to 
him  again  about  the  subject  she  had  broached  the  other 
day  on  the  Lanser  Kopf.  When  a  pretty  woman  interests 
herself  in  your  private  concerns,  she's  always  charming; 
when  she  pays  you  the  delicate  flattery  of  stimulating 
you  to  use  "  your  own  highest  powers  " — that's  the  proper 
phrase — she's  quite  irresistible.  So  Will  Deverill  found 
Rue.  Why,  she  asked,  should  he  go  back  so  soon  to  Lon- 
don? This  devotion  to  mere  journalism  was  penny-wise 
and  pound-foolish.  Could  he  afford  to  stay  away  for 
six  weeks  at  Meran — just  barely  afford  it — and  settle 
himself  down  at  a  quiet  hotel  to  some  really  big  work  that 
would  make  him  famous  ? 

Will,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  and  looking  wistfully  into 
her  eyes^  admitted  his  funds  in  hand  would  permit  him, 
with  care,  such  a  hard-working  holiday. 

Then  Rue  pressed  him  close.  She  brought  ghee  to 
his  vanity.  She  was  convinced  if  he  stopped  in  this  keen 
mountain  air,  among  these  glorious  Alps,  fresh  inspired 
from  Nature,  he  could  turn  out  a  poem,  a  play,  a  ro- 
mance, some  great  thing  of  its  kind,  that  the  world  must 
listen  to.  He  had  it  in  him,  she  felt  sure,  to  make  his 
name  famous.  Nothing  venture,  nothing  have.  If  he 
didn't  believe  in  himself  enough  to  risk  six  weeks  of  his 
precious  time  on  the  effort  to  sketch  out  something  really 
worthy  of  him,  then  all  she  could  say  was — and  she  flood- 
ed him  as  she  spoke  with  the  light  of  her  lustrous  eyes — 
he  believed  in  himself  far  less — oh  so  far,  far  less — than 
his  friends  believed  in  him.  Florian  had  told  her  Will 
held  no  regular  staff-appointment  on  any  London  paper; 
he  was  an  occasional  journalist,  unattached,  earning  a 
precarius  livelihood,  in  fear  and  trembling,  by  reviews 
and  poems  and  descriptive  articles  in  half-a-dozen  as- 
sorted dailies  and  weeklies.    Why  shouldn't  he  give  them 


AND  IF  FOREVER 


"3 


up  for  awhile,  then,  and  play  boldly  and  manfully  for 
some  larger  stake,  some  stake  such  as  she  knew  he  could 
well  attain  to  ?  And  she  quoted  Queen  Elizabeth— or  was 
it  Walter  Raleigh?— 

"  He  either  fears  his  fate  too  much, 
Or  his  desert  is  small, 
Who  will  not  put  it  to  the  touch 
To  lose,  or  win  it  all." 


a  ro- 
mitst 
<e  his 
If  he 
of  his 
really 
flood- 
jyes — 
-than 
Will 
)aper ; 
ling  a 
jviews 
;n  as- 
them 


Now,  this  line  of  argument,  as  it  happened,  exactly 
fell  in,  for  a  special  reason  of  his  own,  with  Will's  mood 
for  the  moment.  A  hoiidLy,  we  all  know,  especially  in 
the  pure  and  stimulating  air  of  the  mountains,  has  always 
a  most  invigorating  and  enlivening  effect  upon  the  jaded 
intellect.  And  Will's  holiday  in  the  Zillerthal  had  in- 
spired him  by  degrees  with  fresh  ideas  and  scenes  for  a 
Tyrolese  drama.  It  was  a  drama  of  the  hills,  with  some 
poeticised  version  of  Linnet  for  its  heroine — a  half-musi- 
cal sketch,  a  little  mountain  operetta,  the  songs  in  which 
were  to  be  all  of  his  own  composing.  Hitherto,  he  had 
never  taken  himself  quite  seriously  as  a  composer;  but 
Linnet  and  Andreas  Hausberger  had  praised  the  few 
pieces  he  played  over  for  them  at  St.  Valentin,  and  Rue 
had  thought  well  of  the  stray  snatches  from  his  notes  he 
had  given  them,  under  protest,  on  the  very  untuneful 
hotel  piano.  Now  the  idea  occurred  to  him  to  write  and 
compose  a  little  play  of  his  own,  while  the  picture  of  Lin- 
net was  still  fresh  in  his  brain ;  and  this  holiday  Rue 
dangled  so  temptingly  before  him  would  just  suffice  to  get 
the  first  scaffolding  of  his  piece  together.  The  filling  in 
he  could  manage  at  his  leisure  in  London.  So  Rue  won 
her  point ;  but  'twas  Linnet  who  won  it  for  her. 

"  Yes ;  I'll  go  to  Meran,"  lie  said  at  last,  after  a  long 
break  in  their  talk,  "  and  I'll  settle  down  to  work  there, 
and  I  won't  even  wait  to  say  good-by  to  Linnet." 

Poets  are  weak,  however,  where  a  woman  is  concerned. 
In  this  respect,  it  may  be  allowed,  Apollo's  sons  closely 
resemble  the  rest  of  the  children  of  Adam.  Will  left 
Innsbruck,  indeed,  without  bidding  Linnet  good-by,  but 
he  couldn't  refrain  from  just  dropping  her  a  line  before  he 


iia 


114 


LINNET 


went,  to  say  he  must  leave  her.  "  To  meet  you  once 
more,"  he  wrote,  "  would  be  only  to  part  again.  I  must 
say  farewell,  and  this  time  for  ever.  But,  Linnet,  it 
makes  my  heart  ache  to  do  it !  "    You  see,  he  was  a  poet. 


CHAPTER  XV 


A   CRITICAL   EVENING 


Florian  and  Rue,  as  it  happened,  were  very  ill-informed 
as  to  the  Tyrolese  minstrel  market,  otherwise  they  would 
certainly  never  have  chosen  Meran  as  a  place  of  refuge 
for  Will  Deverill  against  the  pressing  temptations  of  his 
acquaintance  with  Linnet.  They  chose  it  because  it  was 
a  delightful  and  frequented  autumn  resort ;  because  the 
climate  was  charming  and  the  sunshine  unfailing;  be- 
cause the  grape  cure  was  then  on  in  full  swing  in  the  val- 
ley; and  because  everybody  else  at  Innsbruck  that  mo- 
ment was  going  there.  For  those  very  reasons,  the  wis- 
dom of  the  serpent  might  have  taught  them  to  avoid  it; 
'twas  the  innocence  of  the  dove  that  led  them  to  fly  right 
into  it.  In  point  of  fact  Meran  is  crowded  in  October  and 
November.  High  well-born  Graf  and  consumptive  ple- 
beian disport  themselves  all  day  long  on  the  leafy  prom- 
enades, eating  grapes  as  they  go,  beside  the  band  and  the 
Kurhaus.  It  stands  to  the  world  of  Berlin  and  Vienna 
as  Cannes  and  Mentone  to  the  world  of  London.  That 
was  precisely  why  Andreas  Hausberger  had  marked  it  out 
long  since,  as  the  next  southward  point  on  their  way  Rivi- 
era-wards. 

"Are  there  many  hotels  there?"  Franz  Lindner  asked 
dubiously,  much  crestfallen  at  his  own  comparative  fail- 
ure with  the  public  of  Innsbruck.  A  little  of  his  jaunti- 
ness  had  been  washed  for  the  moment  out  of  Franz  Lind- 
ner's figure ;  he  looked  limper  in  the  back  and  not  so  stiff 
in  the  neck — nay,  even  his  hat  stood  cocked  on  his  head 
at  a  less  aggressive  angle. 

"  There  isn't  anything  else,"  Andreas  Hausberger  an- 
swered in  his  Western  style.  "  Meran  and  Obermais  are 
one  enormous  gasthaus.  If  Linnet  does  as  well  as  she 
has  done  at  Innsbruck,  it'll  take  us  three  weeks  or  a 
month,  at  least,  to  get  right  through  with  them,     We  took 

"S 


m 


.1    !> 


ii6 


LINNET 


a  good  bit,  coisidering  all  things,  the  other  evening.  I 
think  she  draws;  I  noticed  old  gentlemen  slipped  their 
florins  under  their  palms  into  the  plate  unobstrusively. 
Besides,  in  a  Kurort,  she'll  soon  get  talked  about.  People 
at  one  hotel  or  pension  will  speak  of  us  at  another — *  Seen 
this  Tyrolese  troupe  going  about  in  the  place?  Pretty 
girl;  sings  sweetly.'  I  take  it  there  can't  be  less  than 
thirty  houses  in  Meran  where  we  could  get  an  audience. 
That  carries  us  well  on  to  the  end  of  November.  By  that 
time,  San  Remo  and  Bordighera'll  be  filling  up  fast,  and 
from  there  we  can  go  on  to  Cannes,  Nice,  Mentone." 

So  three  days  later  saw  them  safe  at  Meran.  To  Lin- 
net, that  journey  from  north  to  south,  across  the  great 
ridge  of  the  Alps,  seemed  like  transplantation  into  an 
earthly  fairyland,  She  had  never  seen  the  luscious  wealth 
of  vineclad  lands  before ;  for  North  and  South  Tyrol  are 
two  different  countries,  one  cold,  bleak,  Germanic,  the 
other  soft,  warm,  Italian.  Meran  itself  appeared  to  her 
ardent  imagination  more  beautiful  than  anything  eye  hath 
seen  or  mind  conceived  of.  And,  indeed,  it  is  beautiful. 
Whoever  knows  it  loves  it.  A  b'-awling  little  mountain 
stream,  the  Passer,  rushes  headlong  from  the  glaciers  of 
the  Otzthaler  Alps  through  a  wild  upland  glen,  to  join  in 
due  time  the  broader  stream  of  the  Adige,  which 'threads 
the  bleak  Vintschgau  on  its  precipitous  course  from  the 
lofty  snow-fields  of  the  Ortler  and  the  Wild-Spitze.  Near 
the  point  where  the  two  unite,  on  a  long  tongue  of  land, 
the  little  town  of  Meran  nestles  close  among  its  vines, 
under  shelter  of  the  rounded  ice-worn  Kiichelberg.  It 
clings  with  its  ancient  walls,  its  steeples,  its  watch-towers, 
as  if  glued  to  the  lower  slopes  of  the  basking  mountain. 
Linnet  gazed  at  it,  delighted.  For  here,  on  the  south 
side  of  the  Alps,  looking  down  the  broad  valley  to  sunny 
Italy,  the  vegetation  differed  greatly,  both  in  richness  and 
in  character,  from  anything  she  had  ever  seen  in  her  na- 
tive Zillerthal.  Indeed,  even  Italy  itself,  parched  as  it 
often  is  with  excessive  heat,  seldom  shows  such  wild  luxu- 
riance of  foliage  and  fruit  as  these  green  and  well-wa- 
tered South  Tyrolese  valleys.  There  is  a  bowery,  flowery 
lavishness  and  lushness  about  it  all  that  defies  description. 
The  vines  that  trail  loose  across  their  trellised  archways; 
the  gourds  that  hang  pendent  from  their  wooden  frails; 


A  CRITICAL  EVENING 


"7 


the  great  yellow  pumpkins  that  lean  temptingly  over 
every  terraced  wall ;  the  lizards  that  bask  blinking  on  the 
sun-smitten  rock-face;  the  crimson  sprays  of  Virginia 
creeper  that  droop  in  festoons  from  the  brown  verandah 
wood-work  of  coquetish  chalets,  mingled  with  the  pine- 
clad  slopes  and  bare  snow-sprinkled  peaks  of  the  upper 
background,  make  a  charmmg  hybrid  between  Switzer- 
land and  Lombardy.  Imagine  for  yourself  an  ancient 
German  town,  with  moldering  walls  and  high  turrets, 
like  Boppard  or  Andernach,  and  crenellated  castles  of 
quaint  mediaeval  architecture,  but  with  arcaded  streets  and 
Italian  loggias,  plumped  down  incongruously  in  the  midst 
of  this  half-Alpine,  half-southern  scenery,  and  you  get  a 
very  fair  bird's-eye  view  indeed,  in  its  way,  of  the  main 
traits  of  Meran. 

On  the  very  first  morning  of  her  arrival  in  the  town, 
Linnet  took  her  way  out  with  Franz  Lindner  and  Philip- 
pina  along  the  brawling  stream  that  forms  the  center  and 
rallying  point  of  the  gay  little  watering-place.  Meran  is 
all  parade,  winter-garden,  and  band,  and  they  walked 
through  its  midst  to  see  and  be  seen  of  the  lounging  Herr- 
schaft.  They  were  dressed  in  full  costume;  'twas  a 
form  of  advertisement  Andreas  greatly  believed  in. 
Franz  held  himself  erect,  with  his  feather  still  stuck  Rob- 
bler-wise,  and  his  defiant  air,  as  he  strode  through  the 
crowd  that  lined  the  promenade — the  gayest,  most  varied, 
and  most  fashionable  throng  Linnet  had  ever  set  eyes  on. 
He  and  Philippina  stared  hard  at  the  world  that  displayed 
itself  before  them.  German  Jews  from  Frankfort,  great 
Viennese  bankers,  the  round-faced,  engaging  Bavarian 
frauleins,  the  tall  and  tailor-made  English  lawn-tennis 
misses.  Linnet  gazed  at  them,  too,  but/:ast  her  eyes  now 
and  then  from  the  people  and  the  shops  to  the  great  cleft 
mountain  peaks  that  soared  everywhere  high  and  clear- 
cut  into  the  sky  above  them. 

In  the  lower  part  of  their  walk  the  river  was  smooth, 
and  the  roadway  was  bordered  by  fantastic  pensions  and 
quaint  Tyrolese  buildings ;  but  in  the  upper  part,  which 
they  reached  beyond  a  single  bold  arch  of  stone-work  that 
spanned  the  Passer,  precipitous  rocks  began  to  hem  it  in, 
the  river  assumed  the  guise  of  a  foaming  torrent,  and  the 
ruined  fortress  of  the  Zenoburg,  with  its  Romanesque 


i 


I 


ii8 


LINNET 


Ml 


portal,  frowned  down  from  high  above  them  on  a  water- 
worn  gorge  where  the  stream  forced  its  way  in  a  dashing 
cataract.  A  little  platform  overhangs  the  very  edge  of 
the  cascade.  Linnet  stood  there  long,  leaning  over  the 
iron  rail,  and  gazing  with  delight  at  the  white  foam  be- 
neath, and  the  placid  deep  green  of  the  calm  rock-basin 
that  received  the  mountain  stream  as  it  leapt  from  the 
precipice. 

Franz  and  Philippina  wouldn't  let  her  remain  there, 
however.  With  the  restlessness  of  their  kind,  they  were 
eager  to  explore  this  new  world  more  fully.  They  strolled 
through  the  town,  and  up  the  hills  behind,  where  all 
seemed  fresh  and  southern  and  romantic  to  Linnet. 
Through  green  alleys  of  vines,  trained  like  bowers  Over 
their  heads,  they  mounted  at  last  by  a  cloven  ravine  to  the 
chestnut-covered  slopes,  where  they  looked  down  like  a 
map  on  the  vast  garden  of  the  Etschthal.  It  was  a  won- 
derful view.  Linnet  drank  it  in  eagerly.  In  front  crouched 
the  town  with  its  huddling  red  roofs  wedged  in  between 
the  hill  and  the  scurrying  river ;  beyond  lay  a  wide  plain 
of  such  luxuriant  tilth  as  Linnet  till  then  had  never 
dreamt  of.  Villages  and  churches  clustered  thick  by  the 
dozen  on  slope  and  hill-top ;  but  what  added  the  last  touch 
of  charm  to  the  strange  scene  in  Linnet's  eyes  was  the  ex- 
traordinary number  and  variety  of  its  feudal  chateaux. 
Every  height  was  crowned  by  its  castellated  Schloss,  ivy- 
clad  Planta,  huge  sun-smitten  Labers,  the  terraced  front 
of  Rametz,  the  frowning  bastions  of  Fragsburg;  Franz 
Lindner,  with  his  keen  eyes,  could  count  no  less  than 
forty-three  of  them.  The  exhilaration  of  the  fresh  scene, 
and  of  the  southern  trees  and  creepers,  so  different  from 
the  stunted  pines,  of  their  own  chilly  Zillerthal,  filled  Lin- 
net with  a  certain  vague  and  indefinable  delight :  had  but 
her  Englander  been  there,  she  would  have  been  perfectly 
happy. 

Andreas  Hausberger  had  taken  charge  of  the  health  of 
his  troupe,  in  strict  accordance  with  his  own  favorite 
theories.  The  two  girls  were  to  walk  on  the  hills  for  three 
hours  every  morning.  They  were  to  dine  thus  and  thus. 
They  were  to  do  or  avoid  this,  that,  or  the  other  thing. 
He  himself  had  gone  off  meanwhile  to  one  of  the  smaller 
hotels  to  make  arrangements  beforehand  for  that  eve- 


A  CRITIC/  L  EVENING 


119 


,  ivy- 
front 
Franz 
than 
scene, 
from 
[Lin- 
d  but 
fectly 

thof 
orite 
three 
thus, 
hing. 
laller 
eve- 


ning's concert.  One  of  the  smaller  hotels,  bien  entendu, 
for  Andreas  knew  well  the  money  value  of  mere  gossip  as 
a  means  of  advertisement.  Not  till  he  had  seen  what  im- 
pression Linnet  made  on  the  public  of  the  lesser  houses 
would  he  launch  her  on  the  Meranhof  or  the  Erzherzog 
Johann.  That  ensured  him  the  full  benefit  of  the  talk  of 
the  town.  A  shrewd  man,  Andreas  Hausbergeri  By 
the  time  he  reached  those  larger  and  richer  houses  in  his 
nightly  rounds,  he  didn't  doubt  the  world  of  Meran  would 
have  heard  and  tattled  much  of  his  new-found  singer; 
people  would  say  to  one  another,  "  Don't  miss  the  Tyro- 
lese  troupe  that's  coming  to  us  to-night ;  they  say  there's 
one  girl  in  it  worth  seeing  and  hearing."  For  Andreas 
was  above  all  things  a  man  of  the  world ;  he  never  threw 
away  the  chance  of  earning  an  extra  gulden. 

That  evening,  in  due  course,  their  concert  came  off  at 
the  Austria  at  Obermais.  You  know  the  Austria? — a 
small  but  select  and  aristocratic  pension,  much  affected  by 
the  Von  So-and-so's  of  Berlin  and  \ienna.  The  result 
(in  net  cash)  surpassed  the  prudent  Andreas's  highest 
expectations.  Though  no  Will  Deverill  was  there  to  in- 
spire her  efforts,  Linnet  sang  divinely.  Indeed,  to  say 
the  truth,  though  she  had  met  him  and  lost  him  once  more 
^l  Innsbruck,  that  meeting  and  losing,  instead  of  dashing 
her  hopes  to  the  ground,  as  Rue  and  Florian  expected,  had 
only  produced  on  her  simple  little  mind  a  general  impres- 
sion that  now,  by  the  blessed  Madonna's  aid,  her  Eng- 
lander  might  turn  up  any  day,  anywhere.  In  that  inno- 
cent hope,  born  of  the  age  of  faith,  she  sang  her  best  with 
a  will,  and  charmed  her  audience,  looking  hard  at  the  door 
all  the  while,  to  see  if,  peradventure,  her  Englander  would 
en^er.  And  when  no  Englander  came.,  she  comforted  her 
soul  with  the  thought  that  Andreas  had  said  there  were 
twenty-nine  other  hotels  in  Meran  and  Obermais — at  any 
one  of  which,  no  doubt,  that  dear  friend  might  be  stop- 
ping. Her  heart  wasn't  crushed — not  the  least  bit  of  it — 
and  her  trust  in  the  blessed  Madonna  on  the  Brittannia 
metal  pendant  that  hung  round  her  neck  was  as  vivid  and 
as  childishly  unquestioning  as  ever.  Our  Dear  Frau  had 
brought  her  her  lover  at  Innsbruck ;  Our  Dear  Frau  could 
bring  him  her  just  as  well  at  Meran  here. 

She  sang  three  times.    Each  time  the  audience  ap- 


120 


LINNET 


Is/a    • 


plauded  vociferously.  The  Austria,  you  see,  is  mainly 
frequented  by  Germans.  Now,  your  German  is  musical ; 
he  has  little  reserve;  he  loves  a  good  noise;  and  he's 
never  afraid  of  displaying  his  feelings.  Moreover,  the 
little  party  in  the  salon  that  night  was  largely  composed 
of  Viennese  or  Bavarians;  they  understood  the  zither 
and  the  Tyrolese  songs;  they  were  to  the  manner  born, 
good  judges  of  execution.  Franz  Lindner's  feather  curled 
once  more,  quite  as  perkily  as  ever,  when  they  applauded 
the  bravado  of  his  facile  playing.  Philippina  smiled  znd 
bobbed,  a  wicked  twinkle  in  her  eye,  when  they  cried 
"  Bis !  "  to  the  loudest  and  sauciest  of  her  jodels.  But  at 
each  of  Linnet's  songs,  her  hearers  grew  silent,  then  burst 
as  she  ceased  into  uproarious  approbation.  She  was  the 
heroine  of  the  night,  the  black  swan  of  the  party;  not 
often  had  they  heard  such  a  voice  as  hers  at  so  humble  a 
performance. 

When  all  was  finished,  'twas  Linnet's  task  to  hand 
round  the  plate  and  make  the  little  collection.  She  hated 
the  work,  but  'tis  always  imposed,  and  with  sound  com- 
mercial reason,  on  the  prettiest  girl  of  the  troupe,  so  it 
naturally  devolved  upon  Linnet  to  perform  it.  Even 
good-humored  Philippina  admitted  without  dispute  her 
claim  to  the  function.  Hot  in  the  face,  and  ill  at  ease, 
Linnet  walked  round  the  room  in  a  maze  of  confusion, 
with  her  little  silver  salver.  She  offered  it  first  to  the  rich 
Jew  banker  from  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  with  the  dia- 
mond pin,  and  the  seals  on  his  watch-chain.  Now,  your 
pretty  face  is  a  mighty  opener  of  your  purse-strings.  The 
rich  Jew  banker,  holding  out  one  fat  thumb  and  forefinger 
gingerly,  afttr  a  second's  hesitation  (for  'tis  hard  to  part 
with  so  much  money  at  once)  dropped  a  ten-florin  piece 
in  good  Austrian  gold,  plump  into  the  middle  of  the  silver 
salver.  It  fell  with  a  ring.  His  example  was  contagious. 
Christian  Freiherrs  could  not  stand  being  beaten  in  their 
appreciation  of  vocal  art  by  Jewish  financiers  from  Frank- 
fort. People  who  meant  to  give  one  florin  now  gave  two ; 
people  who  meant  to  put  off  on  their  wives  the  duty  of 
dispensing  the  family  bounty  now  drew  out  their  purses 
and  became  their  own  almoners.  Linnet  had  never  seen 
a  gold  piece  in  her  life  before;   when  she  finished  her 


r( 

0 


A  CRITICAL  EVENING 


121 


round,  bowing  low,  that  night,  there  were  three  ot  them 
on  the  salver. 

Andreas  Hausberger  eyed  the  plate  with  a  carefully- 
suppressed  smile  of  subdued  satisfaction.  His  mouth 
never  moved;  only  the  corners  of  his  eyes  betrayed  his 
emotion.  But  that  evening's  haul  had  far-reaching  con- 
sequences— for  him  and  for  Linnet.  He  saw  in  a  mo- 
ment he  had  found  indeed,  as  he  thought,  a  treasure.  He 
didn't  need  the  assurances  of  the  rich  Jew  banker,  and  the 
lady  amateur  with  the  tortoise-shell  eyeglasses  who  came 
from  Berlin,  that  Linnet  should  be  placed  at  once  for  in- 
struction in  a  proper  conservatorium.  He  saw  for  him- 
self, from  the  effect  she  produced  on  the  audience  that 
night,  she  would  yet  do  wonders.  As  Linnet  left  the 
Austria,  Andreas  held  her  cloak  for  her.  But  it  wasn't 
mere  gallantry.  "  Wrap  your  throat  round  well.  Lin- 
net," he  said,  with  much  zealous  care.  "  For  Heaven's 
sake  don't  take  cold.  The  air  on  the  hills  in  the  daytime 
won't  hurt  you ;  but  after  sitting  in  these  crowded,  over- 
heated rooms,  the  night  fogs  are  so  bad  for  you." 

The  goose  that  lays  the  golden  eggs  deserves  to  be  well 
tended. 


her 


CHAPTER  XVI 


SCHLOSS   TYROL 


"  Where  shall  we  go  to-day  ?  "  Will  inquired  next  morn- 
ing, as  they  sipped  their  early  coffee  at  the  Erzherzog 
Johann.  He  was  already  hard  at  work  on  his  projected 
operetta,  but  'twas  a  fad  of  his  to  compose  in  the  open  air ; 
he  went  out  for  a  long  stroll  every  morning  with  Florian, 
and  sat  on  the  hill-sides,  jotting  his  thoughts  down  with 
a  pencil,  exactly  as  they  occurred,  face  to  face  with  Na- 
ture. 

"  Rue  won't  meet  us  to-day,  she  says,"  his  friend  an- 
swered with  a  yawn.  "  Her  nerves  are  tired  after  her  walk 
of  yesterday.  So,  for  my  part,  I  vote  we  go  and  see 
Schloss  Tyrol.  It  inspires  me,  that  place,"  Florian  went 
on,  warming  up — for  he  had  been  reading  his  guide-book. 
"  It  has  the  interest  of  a  germ,  a  nucleus,  a  growing  point. 
I  like  to  think  that  here  we  stand  before  the  embryo  of  a 
State — the  very  heart  and  core  of  the  evolving  Tyrol.  We 
watch  its  development,  so  to  speak,  from  its  central  cell. 
It's  the  evolution  of  law,  or  order,  of  authority.  The  rob- 
ber chiefs  of  that  high  stronghold  perched  aloft  on  the 
hills  " — and  Florian  extended  one  small  white  hand,  as 
was  his  wont  when  he  perorated — "  are  the  center  round 
which  clusters  by  successive  degrees  the  whole  Tyrolese 
and  Austrian  history.  I  see  them  pushing  their  power  in 
concentric  rings  from  their  eagle's  eyrie  on  the  crags 
above  the  valley  of  the  Adige.  to  Botzen  and  the  Brenner, 
the  basin  of  the  Inn,  the  Bavarian  March,  the  entire 
Eastern  Alps,  from  the  Engadine  to  the  Dolomites.  Their 
Schloss  there  is  the  original  and  only  genuine  Tvrol.  By 
successful  robbery,  which  is  the  basis  of  all  the  divine 
rights  of  governments,  they  become  the  masters  and 
lords  of  a  mighty  province ;  they  dictate  peace  and  justice 
to  obedient  villagers ;  they  stand  out  in  course  of  time  as 
an  earthly  providence.     But  what  were  they  at  first? 

122 


SCHLOSS  TYROL 


123 


Why,  a  den  of  thieves !  There  you  have  the  whole  evo- 
lution of  morality  in  a  nutshell — the  rule  of  the  strong, 
established  and  maintained  by  continued  aggression.  So 
I  will  see  Schloss  Tyrol ;  I  will  be  a  pilgrim  at  the  shrine ; 
I  will  refresh  myself  at  the  fount  of  law  and  order  as  it 
exists  and  envisages  itself  for  these  innocent  mountains." 

"  It's  an  interesting  place,"  Will  replied,  taking  no  no- 
tice of  Florian's  gush,  "  and  it's  well  worth  visiting.  I've 
seen  it  before.  I'll  sit  on  the  rocks  outside  and  write, 
while  you  go  in  and  look  at  it." 

So  after  breakfast  they  started  up  the  narrow  old  road, 
paved  in  places  with  cobble-stones,  and  overarched  in  its 
lower  slopes  by  graceful  festoons  of  trellised  vines,  that 
leads  from  Meran  along  a  shoulder  of  the  hills  to  the 
earliest  home  of  the  counts  of  Tyrol.  'Twas  a  true  South 
Tyrolese  November  morning.  It  froze  hard  through  the 
night,  and  the  ice  still  lay  thick  on  the  pools  by  the  way- 
side ;  but  in  that  keen,  crisp  air,  and  with  that  cloudless 
sky,  the  sun  overhead  blazed  as  warm  as  summer.  Up 
the  Passer  valley  to  their  right,  as  they  mounted,  the  vil- 
lages and  churches  on  the  slopes  of  the  Ifinger  stood  out 
in  dazzling  white  against  their  dark  green  background. 
The  little  mountain  path,  bordered  as  usual  by  countless 
petty  crucifixes  and  whitewashed  shrines,  wound  in  con- 
tinuous zig-zags  up  the  face  of  the  Kiichelberg,  a  wedge 
of  rounded  rock  that  overlooks  the  town,  draped  with 
vineyards  on  its  sides,  and  worn  smooth  on  its  summits 
by  the  titanic  ice  mills  of  the  glacial  epoch.  The  chapels 
in  particular  excited  Florian's  interest.  "  There's  more 
religion  to  the  square  mile  in  the  Tyrol,"  he  said,  "  than 
in  any  other  country  I  ever  visited !  " 

They  rose  by  slow  degrees  till  they  reached  the  long 
hog's  back  which  separated  the  wild  Passer  glen  from  the 
wider  and  more  luxuriant  Adige  valley.  Florian  stood 
still  to  gaze.  T:er  upon  tier  of  vines,  in  endless  galleries, 
roofed  the  southern  slope  as  with  one  leafy  arbor;  the 
long  shoulder  itself  on  whose  top  they  now  stood  was 
green  with  pastures,  and  watered  by  plashing  artificial 
leats  which  had  worn  themselves  deep  beds  like  natural 
streamlets.  The  music  of  falling  water  accompanied  them 
all  the  wav;  the  cow-bells  tinkled  pleasantly  from  the 
fields  on  either  hand ;  and  the  views,  as  they  walked  alongf 


124 


LINNET 


the  crest  of  the  ridge,  looking  down  into  the  two  valleys 
with  their  villages  and  klosters,  their  castles  and  towers, 
seemed  infinite  in  the  variety  of  their  beauty  and  interest. 
Above  soared  the  bare  peaks  of  the  Muthspitze  and  the 
Tschigatspitze ;  to  the  east  rose  the  fissured  summits  of 
the  cloven  Dolomites;  the  white  mass  of  the  Lanser 
Ferner  closed  the  glen  to  westward. 

After  nearly  an  hour's  walk,  as  they  approached  the 
little  village  of  Dorf  Tyrol  on  the  hill-top,  they  passed 
a  huddled  heap  of  wayside  boulders,  over  whose  ledge 
the  stream  that  had  accompanied  them  so  far  on  their 
road  tumbled  from  a  small  sluice  in  a  bickering  cataract. 
Two  girls  were  seated  on  the  brink  of  the  torrent  with 
their  backs  turned  towards  them.  As  the  young  men  ap- 
proached, one  of  the  girls  looked  round,  and  gave  a  start 
of  surprise.  "  Why,  Linnet,"  she  cried  in  German, 
"  here  he  is  again ! — your  Englander !  " 

Linnet  turned,  with  a  crimson  flush  on  her  nut-brown 
face,  to  think  that  Philippina  should  speak  so  openly  of 
Will,  as  of  some  one  that  belonged  to  her.  But  her  cheek, 
to  say  the  truth,  was  hardly  redder  than  Will's  own,  as 
he  heard  himself  so  described  by  the  laughing  sennerin 
as  Linnet's  Englander.  He  couldn't  conceal  from  him- 
self, however,  the  fact  that  he  was  glad  to  meet  Linnet 
under  whatever  circumstances.  With  a  wondering  heart, 
he  went  up  and  took  her  hand.  "  Why,  when  did  you 
come  here  ?  "  he  asked,  all  astonished. 

"  The  day  before  yesterday,"  Linnet  answered,  ting- 
ling. 

"  And  she  sang  last  night  at  the  Austria,"  Philippina 
put  in,  with  her  good-humored  smile,  "  and  made  a  great 
success,  too,  I  can  tell  you  that;  and  took,  oh,  ever  and 
ever  so  much  money.  Herr  Andreas  is  so  pleased.  He 
goes  chuckling  to  himself.  I  think  he  thinks  Linnet  will 
make  his  fortune." 

"  And  how  long  do  you  stop  here  ? "  Will  inquired, 
half-anxiously,  half-eagerly. 

"  About  a  month,"  Linnet  answered,  looking  deep  into 
his  eyes,  and  keeping  down  the  rising  tears  as  well  as  she 
could  in  her  own.  "  And  you,  Herr  Will  ?  how  long  do 
you  mean  to  remain  here  ?  " 

"A  month  or  six  weeks,"  Will  replied  with  a  thrill. 


SCHLOSS  TYROL 


125 


ting- 


into 

she 

rdo 


Then  he  added,  gazing  hard  at  her,  in  spite  of  Florian, 
"  so  I  hope  we  may  still  have  many  chances  of  meeting?  " 

Florian  flung  his  fragile  form  at  full  length  on  the  heap 
of  stones  by  their  side,  and  began  to  laugh  unrestrained- 
ly. "  Well,  it's  no  use  fighting  against  fate,"  he  cried, 
looking  up  at  the  blushing  pair,  with  philosophic  indul- 
gence for  the  errors  and  foibles  of  youth  and  beauty  and 
the  poetic  temperament.  "  You  must  go  your  own  way, 
I  suppose.  I  retire  from  the  contest.  I've  done  my  very 
best,  dear  boy,  to  preserve  you  from  yourself;  but  the 
stars  in  their  courses  seem  to  fight  against  Sisera."  He 
extended  both  his  small  hands  with  paternal  unction. 
"  Bless  you,  my  children,"  he  cried,  theatrically.  "  Be 
happy.     Be  happy." 

"Which  way  are  you  walking?"  Will  asked  in  Ger- 
man, to  cover  his  confusion. 

"  Well,  we  are  going  towards  the  Schloss,"  Philippina 
replied,  smiling.  "  But  the  climb's  rather  stiff,  so  we 
sat  down  for  awhile  by  these  stones,  just  to  rest  on  the 
hill-top." 

"  The  finger  of  fate  again ! "  Florian  cried,  much 
amused,  raising  his  hands  deprecatingly.  "  Well,  Will, 
there's  no  help  for  it;  I  see  they  must  go  with  us.  It's 
useless  trying  to  keep  you  and  your  Oread  apart  any 
longer,  so  I  won't  attempt  it.  Two's  company,  three's 
none.  The  only  thing  left  for  a  wise  man  like  me — is 
just  to  walk  on  in  front  and  take  a  German  lesson  from 
Fraulein  Philippina." 

Fortunately  for  Florian,  too,  Philippina  proved  to  be 
one  of  those  gay  and  easy-going  young  ladies  with  whom 
the  want  of  a  common  tongue  wherein  to  express  one's 
thoughts  forms  a  very  slight  barrier  to  the  course  of 
conversation.  Already  at  her  chalet  he  had  guessed  as 
much;  and  now  on  the  hill-top,  they  walked  along  side 
by  side,  chatting  and  laughing  as  they  went,  with  ex- 
pressive eyes,  and  making  themselves  mutually  under- 
stood as  much  by  nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles 
— so  Florian  poetically  phrased  it  in  his  silent  soul — as 
by  any  articulate  fo.m  of  the  German  language.  Before 
thev  had  reached  the  Schloss  they  stood  already  on  ex- 
cellent terms  with  one  another,  and  Florian  even  consoled 
himself  for  the  enforced  loss  of  Linnet's  society  with  the 


126 


LINNET 


IINIiil 


J 


reflection  that  Philippina  was,  after  all,  in  many  ways 
"  a  great  deal  more  practical." 

But  Linnet,  walking  behind,  was  in  the  seventh  heav- 
ens. She  had  found  her  Englander  once  more,  and  that 
alone  would  have  been  enough  for  her.  But  that  wasn't 
all;  this  second  chance  meeting,  perfectly  nstural  as  it 
was — for  Andreas  had  but  followed  the  stream  of  tourists 
southward — impressed  her  simple  mind  with  the  general 
idea  that  the  world,  after  all,  wasn't  as  big  as  she  had  sup- 
posed it,  and  that  she'd  be  liable  now  to  meet  the  gnddigc 
Herr  wherever  she  went,  quite  casually  and  accidentally. 
Not,  indeed,  that  she  troubled  her  head  much  just  then 
about  the  future  in  any  way:  with  Will  by  her  side,  she 
lived  wholly  in  the  present.  She  didn't  even  ask  him  why 
he  had  gone  away  from  Innsbruck  without  coming  to 
say  good-by  to  her  in  person;  she  didn't  utter  a  single 
word  of  reproach  or  complaint ;  she  accepted  all  that ;  she 
took  it  all  for  granted.  Will  never  could  marry  her ;  she 
didn't  expect  him  to  marry  her:  a  gentleman  like  him 
couldn't  marry  a  peasant-girl ;  a  Catholic  like  herself 
couldn't  marry  a  heretic  who  scarcely  bowed  the  knee  to 
Our  Blessed  Lady.  But  she  loved  him  for  all  that,  and 
she  was  happy  if  he  would  but  let  her  walk  beside  him. 
And  in  this  she  was  purely  and  simply  womanly.  True 
love  doesn't  ask  any  end  beyond  itself:  it  is  amply  satis- 
fied with  being  loved  and  loving. 

And  Will?  Well,  Will  had  a  poet's  nature,  and  the 
poet  lives  in  the  passing  emotion.  Only  a  man  of  moods 
can  set  moods  before  us.  Like  Linnet  herself.  Will 
thought  little  of  the  futrire  \.nen  Linnet  was  beside  him. 
He  meant  her  no  harm,  as  he  said  truly  to  Florian ;  but  he 
meant  her  no  good  either ;  he  meant  nothing  at  all  but  to 
walk  by  her  side,  and  hold  her  hand  in  his,  and  feel  his 
heart  beat  hard,  and  her  finger-touch  thrill  through  him. 
Walking  thus  as  in  a  mist,  they  passed  Dorf  Tyrol ;  and 
the  road  at  once  grew  wilder  and  more  romantic.  It 
grew  also  more  sequestered,  with  deeper  bends  and  nooks, 
as  it  turned  the  corners  of  little  ravines  and  gulleys,  where 
they  could  look  at  one  another  more  frankly  with  the 
eager  eyes  of  young  love ;  and  once.  Will  raised  his  hand 
to  Linnet's  nut-brown  cheek,  and  pressed  it  tenderly. 
I  .innet  said  nothing,  but  the  hot  blood  rushed  to  her  face 


SCHLOSS  TYROL 


127 


the 

loods 

Will 

him. 

It  he 

to 

[\  his 

1  him. 

and 

It 

)oks, 


with  mingled  shame  and  pleasure ;  and  who  was  so  glad 
as  she  that  Will  Deverill  should  touch  her! 

The  path  wound  round  a  deep  gorge,  overhanging  a 
torrent,  with  Schloss  Tyrol  itself  frowning  beyond  on  its 
isolated  crag — a  picturesque  and  half-ruinous  mediaeval 
fortress,  almost  isolated  on  a  peninsular  mass  of  crumb- 
ling mud-cliflf,  interspersed  with  the  ice-worn  debris  of 
pre-histonc  glaciers.  'Tis  a  beautiful  spot.  Petty  Al- 
pine rills,  tearing  headlong  down  the  sides,  have  carved 
out  for  themselves  steep  ravines  which  all  but  island  the 
castle ;  their  banks  rise  up  sheer  as  straight  walls  of  cliflf, 
displaying  on  their  faces  the  grey  mud  of  the  moraine, 
from  which  the  ice-worn  boulders  project  boldly  here  and 
there,  or  tumble  from  time  to  time  to  encumber  the  lit- 
tered beds  of  the  streams  that  dislodged  them.  But  what 
struck  Florian  most  of  all,  as  he  paused  and  looked,  was 
the  curious  effect  produced  where  a  single  large  boulder 
has  resisted  the  denuding  action  of  the  streams  and  the 
rainfall  so  as  to  protect  the  tapering  column  of  hardened 
mud  beneath  it.  Each  big  rock  thus  stood  paradoxically 
perched  on  the  summit  of  a  conical  pillar,  called  locally  an 
earth-pyramid,  and  forming,  Florian  thought,  the  most 
singular  element  in  this  singular  landscape.  Close  to  its 
end  the  track  bends  round  an  elbow  to  skirt  the  ravine, 
and  then  plunges  for  a  hundred  yards  or  more  into  a  dark 
and  narrow  underground  passage  through  the  isthmus  of 
moraine  stuff,  before  drawing  up  at  the  portcullis  of  the 
dismantled  fortress.  A  more  romantically  mysterious 
way  of  approaching  a  mediaeval  stronghold  Florian  could 
hardly  imagine :  it  reminded  him  of  Ivanhoe  or  the  Castle 
of  Otranto. 

But  as  Florian  and  Philippina  disappeared  under  the 
shadow  of  the  darkling  archway,  Will  found  himself 
alone  for  one  moment  with  Linnet,  screened  from  obser- 
vation by  the  thick  trellis-work  of  the  vineyards.  They 
were  walking  close  together,  whispering  in  one  another's 
ears  those  eternal  nothings  which  lovers  have  whispered 
in  the  self-same  tones,  but  in  a  hundred  tongues,  for  ten 
thousand  ages.  Occasion  favored  them.  Will  glanced 
round  for  a  moment;  then  with  a  rapid  movement  he 
drew  the  trembling  girl  to  himself,  half  unresisted.  Her 
cheek  was  flushed,  partly  with  joy,  partly  with  fear,  that 


128 


Lli^NET 


:i|iil!i! 


he  should  dare  to  lay  hands  on  her.  His  boldness  thrilled 
her  through  with  a  delicious  thrill — the  true  womanly  joy 
in  being  masterfully  handled.  "  No,  no,"  she  cried  in  a 
taint  voice ;  "  you  mustn't,  you  mustn't.'"  But  she  said  it 
shyly,  as  one  who  half-wishes  xier  words  to  fail  of  their 
effect :  and  Will  never  heeded  her  "  no  " — and  oh,  how 
glad  she  was  that  Will  never  heeded  it!  He  held  her 
face  up  to  his,  and  bent  his  own  down  tenderly.  Linnet 
tried  to  draw  back,  yet  pursed  up  her  lips  at  the  same 
time  and  let  him  kiss  her  when  he  tried ;  but  she  made 
him  try  first,  though  when  at  last  he  succeeded,  she  felt 
the  kiss  course  trembling  through  her  inmost  being. 

It  was  but  a  moment,  yet  that  moment  to  her  was  wortli 
many  eternities.  For  a  second  of  time  she  nestled  against 
him  confidingly,  for  now  he  was  hers,  and  she  was  his 
for  ever.  Their  lips  had  sealed  it.  But  before  he  could 
steal  another,  she  had  broken  away  from  him  again,  and 
stood  half-penitent,  half-overjoyed,  by  the  roadside,  a 
little  way  from  him.  "  No  more  now !  "  she  said,  grave- 
ly, lifting  one  finger  in  command ;  "  we  must  follow  Herr 
Florian."  And  with  that,  they  plunged  at  once  into  the 
gloom  of  the  tunnel. 

What  happened  by  the  way,  no  ore  knows  save  them- 
selves ;  but,  two  minutes  later,  with  blushing  cheeks,  they 
rejoined  their  companions  by  the  gateway  of  the  castle. 
Even  flushed  as  she  was.  Linnet  couldn't  help  admiring 
it.  It  was  beautiful,  wonderful.  The  ancient  wealth  and 
dignity  of  the  first  counts  of  Schloss  Tyrol  remain  well 
reflected  to  this  day  in  the  rude  magnificence  of  their 
Romanesque  residence.  Linnet  looked  up  with  wonder 
at  the  round-arched  portal  of  the  principal  doorway,  rich- 
ly carved  with  quaint  squat  figures  of  grotesque  fancy, 
naive,  not  to  say  childish  and  uncouth,  in  design,  but 
admirable  and  exquisite  in  execution.  "  Tenth  ceiitury 
workmanship!"  Florian  said,  with  a  bland  smile,  as  he 
looked  up  at  it,  condescendingly ;  and  Will,  pulling  him- 
self together  again,  explained  to  the  two  girls  in  detail 
the  various  meanings  of  the  queer  little  figures.  Here 
were  Adam  and  Eve ;  here  Jonah  and  the  whale ;  here 
saints  reveled  in  Heaven ;  here,  lost  souls  rolled  in  tor- 
ment. Linnet  gazed,  and  admir-^d  the  beauty  of  the 
door — but  still  more,  Will's  learning.     If  only  she  could 


SCHLOSS  TYROL 


129 


undersiand  such  things  as  that!  But  there! — he  was  so 
wise,  and  she  so  ignorant! 

They  passed  into  the  hall — that  stately  old  Rittersaal, 
adorned  with  marble  carvings  of  the  same  infantile  type 
— and  looked  sheer  down  from  the  windows  a  thousand 
feet  on  to  the  valley  below,  with  the  falls  of  the  Adige 
behind,  and  a  sea  of  tumultuous  porphyritic  mountains 
surging  and  rolling  in  the  farther  background.  'Twas 
a  beautiful  view  in  itself,  rendered  more  beautiful  still  by 
its  picturesque  setting  of  semi-circular  arches,  divided 
and  supported  by  slender  shafts  of  polished  alabaster. 
To  an  untutored  girl  of  Linnet's  native  artistic  tempera- 
ment, it  was  delightful  to  pass  through  those  lordly  halls 
and  into  that  exquisite  chapel  with  its  quaint  old  fres* 
coes,  in  company  with  somebody  who  could  explain  their 
whole  meaning  to  her  simple  intelligence  so  well  as  Will 
Deverill.  Though  she  felt  her  own  ignorance — felt  it 
acutely,  sensitively — she  felt  at  the  same  time  how  fast 
she  could  learn  from  such  a  teacher ;  and  as  she  dropped 
on  her  knees  before  the  twelfth-century  Madonna  in  the 
spangled  shrine  of  Lliat  antiquated  chantry,  it  was  not  for 
herself  alone  that  she  murmured  below  her  breath,  in  very 
tremulous  tone?.,  an  Ave  Maria. 

Will  and  Florian  talked,  too,  of  the  Schioss  and  its 
history.  Linnet  listened  with  all  her  ears,  though  she 
hardly  understood  half  the  English  words  they  used  to 
describe  it — how  it  commanded  the  whole  vast  plain  of 
Meran  and  Botzen,  the  widest  and  most  populous  in  the 
Eastern  Alps,  one  basking  garden  of  vines  and  Indian 
corn  and  fruit-trees,  thickly  dotted  with  hamlets, 
churches,  and  castles.  "  You  can  see  v/hy  the  counts  who 
lived  here  spread  their  power  and  their  name  by  slow  de- 
grees over  the  whole  of  this  country,"  Will  said,  as  they 
gazed  down  on  it.  And  then  he  went  on  to  talk  of  how 
the  Counts  of  Tyrol  gradually  absorbed  Meran  and  Bot- 
zen, and  in  course  of  time,  by  their  possession  of  the 
Brenner  route,  the  great  mediaeval  highway  from  Italy  to 
Germany,  acquired  the  over  lordship  of  the  whole  wide 
tract  which  is  now  called  after  them.  Oh.  what  ^rand 
words  he  used!  Linnet  listened,  and  wondered  at  them. 
She  caught,  from  time  to  time,  the  name  of  Margaret 
Maultasch — that  Meg  of  the  Pocket-Mouth  who  made 


fii 


I'l,- 


■1^.  '  , 

i  i 

\:l'       ■■ 

1 

'iy,:J      <    -.1; 

u 

130 


LINNET 


over  her  dominions  to  the  house  of  Austria — and  learned 
from  stray  hints  how  the  Counts  of  the  new  line  moved 
their  capital  northward  from  Meran  to  Innsbruck.  It 
was  marvelous  how  Herr  Will,  who  was  a  stranger  from 
England,  should  know  so  much  more  about  her  people's 
history  than  she  herself  did!  But  there!  what  did  she 
say  ?     Herr  Will  knew  everything. 

Florian  and  Philippina  went  off  by  themselves  after 
awhile  among  the  ruins  of  the  ramparts.  Linnet  was  left 
alone  with  Will  again  by  the  windows  of  the  Rittersaal. 
All  this  historical  talk  had  inflamed  her  eager  mind  with 
vague  hopes  and  possibilities.  Why  should  not  she  too 
know?  Why  should  not  she  too  be  fit  for  him,  like  the 
fair-haired  lady  ?  "  Herr  Will,"  she  said  at  last,  turning 
round  to  him  with  a  shy  look  in  her  shrinking  eyes, 
"  How  I  wish  you  could  teach  me !  How  I  wish  you 
could  tell  me  how  to  learn  such  things !  We  shall  1 .  here 
for  a  month.  Why  shouldn't  I  begin?  Why  shouldn't 
I  learn  now  ?    We  may  see  each  other  often." 

"  Will  you  be  on  the  hill  behind  the  town  to-morrow  ? " 
Will  asked,  half-ashamed  of  himself  for  these  endless 
breakings-off,  and  these  fresh  re-commencements. 

"  Perhaps,"  Linnet  answered  timidly,  in  her  accus- 
tomed phrase ;  "  if  Philippina  will  come  .  .  .  and  if  she 
doesn't  tell  Andreas." 

"  Where  will  you  be  ?  "  Will  inquired,  taking  her  hand 
in  his  own  once  more  and  holding  it. 

Linnet  looked  down  and  paused.  "  I  might  be  near 
the  cross  at  the  turn  of  the  road  by  the  second  oratory, 
about  ten  o'clock,"  she  said  very  low,  "  if  Our  Lady  per- 
mits me." 

Will  pressed  her  hand  hard.  "  And  where  do  you  sing 
to-night  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  little  smile  of  pleasure.  "  I 
must  come  and  hear  you." 

To  his  immense  surprise  Linnet  drew  back  at  once,  red 
as  a  rose,  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  him  pleadingly.  "  Oh, 
no,  don't,"  she  cried,  much  distressed.  "  Don't,  don't,  I 
beg  of  you." 

Will,  in  turn,  lifted  his  head,  astonished,  and  looked 
hard  at  her.  He  couldn't  understand  this  strange  freak 
of  feeling.  "  Then  don't  you  like  me  to  hear  you  ?  "  he 
cried,  regretfully.    "It's   such   a   pleasure    to    me.    I 


hand 


SCHLOSS  TYROL 


131 


thought  you  wanted  me  to  near.  And  I  thought  I  en- 
couraged you." 

"  So  you  do,"  Linnet  answered  with  a  burst  half- 
sidling  towards  him,  half -shrinking.  "  I  love  you  to  hear 
me.  And  I'll  sing  for  you  whenever  you  like.  I'll  sing 
for  you  till  I'm  hoarse.  But  don't  come  to  the  hotels. 
Oh,  don't  come,  I  implore  you !  " 

"  Why  not,  my  child  ?  "  Will  cried,  drawing  her  close 
to  him  once  more. 

Linnet's  cheeks  burnt  crimson.  She  looked  down  and 
stammered.  Then,  with  a  sudden  impulse  she  hid  her 
face  on  his  bosom,  and  yielded  up  her  whole  soul  to  him. 
"  Because,"  she  whispered,  all  aglow  with  maiden  shame 
at  having  confessed  the  truth,  "  if  Andreas  Hausberger 
sees  you,  he'll  know  you're  in  Meran — and  then  he  won't 
allow  me  to  come  out  on  the  hills  to  meet  you." 


u  sing 
"I 


CHAPTER  XVII 


CAUGHT  OUT 

That  avowal  of  Linnet's  that  she  didn't  want  Andreas 
Hausberger  to  know  of  Will's  presence  in  the  town  put 
Will's  relations  towards  her  during  the  next  few  weeks 
on  a  different,  and  to  some  extent  compromising,  footing 
It  introduced  into  their  meetings  a  certain  shadowy  ele- 
ment of  clandestine  love-making  which  was  in  many  ways 
distasteful  to  Will's  frank  and  manly  nature,  though  it 
was  at  the  same  time,  as  Florian  felt,  a  hundred  times 
more  "  dangerous  "  for  him  than  any  open  acquaintance. 
For  Andreas,  after  all,  was  Linnet's  ostensible  guardian 
and  nearest  male  protector.  To  meet  Linnet  on  the  hills, 
without  his  knowledge  or  consent,  was  to  place  oneself  in 
the  position  of  an  unrecognized  lover.  Will  knew  it  was 
a  mistake.  And  yet — he  did  it.  We,  who  have  made  no 
mistakes  of  any  sort  in  all  our  lives,  but  have  steadily 
followed  the  beaten  track  all  through,  with  sheep-like 
persistence,  can  afford  to  disapprove  of  him. 

So,  day  after  day,  during  the  next  few  weeks.  Will 
went  up  on  the  hills  to  walk  and  talk  with  Linnet.  Rue 
Palmer  was  delighted.  She  thought,  poor  soul,  her 
scheme  was  succeeding  admirably.  Will  was  out  every 
morning  on  the  mountains  alone,  working  hard  at  his 
magnum  opus,  which  was  to  astonish  the  world,  and  with 
which  she  had  inspired  him.  It  was  glorious,  glorious! 
And,  indeed,  in  spite  of  the  time  wasted  in  talking  with 
Linnet,  though  the  best  spent  time,  as  everybody  knows, 
is  the  time  we  waste.  Will  did  really  succeed  in  writing 
and  composing  at  odd  moments  and  in  the  night  watches 
no  small  part  of  his  graceful  and  beautiful  little  operetta, 
"  The  Chamois  Hunter's  Daughter."  But  alas  for  poor 
Rue,  it  was  not  she  who  inspired  it. 

On  these  morning  expeditions  up  the  surrounding  hills 
to  some  appointed  trysting-place,  Florian  sometimes  ac- 

133 


h 


I!"',-; 


CAUGHT  OUT 


133 


companied  him,  and  sometimes  not.  But,  in  any  case,  he 
abstained  from  mentioning  their  object  to  Rue ;  as  he  put 
it  himself,  never  should  it  be  said  that  Florian  Wood 
could  split  upon  two  ill-advised  but  confiding  young  peo- 
ple. It  suited  Florian's  book  now,  indeed,  that  Will's  at- 
tention should  be  distracted  from  Rue  to  Linnet.  He 
wanted  to  make  the  running  for  himself  with  the  Ameri- 
can heiress,  and  he  was  by  no  means  sorry  that  so  danger- 
ous and  important  a  rival  as  the  author  of  "  Voices  from 
the  Hills  "  should  be  otherwise  occupied.  So  he  kept  his 
own  counsel  about  Will  and  Linnet;  he  had  abdicated 
by  this  time  his  self-appointed  function  of  moral  censor ; 
and  seeing  they  would  go  to  the  devil  in  any  case,  he  was 
inclined  to  let  them  go  their  own  headlong  way,  into  the 
jaws  of  matrimony,  without  preliminary  haggling.  He 
that  will  to  Cupar,  maun  to  Cupar.  Deverill  would 
marry  his  cow-girl  in  the  end — of  that  Florian  felt  cer- 
tain ;  and  when  a  man's  quite  determined  to  make  a  fool 
of  himself,  you  know,  why,  you  only  earn  his  dislike,  in- 
stead of  his  esteem,  by  endeavoring  to  win  him  back  again 
to  the  ways  of  wisdom. 

And  Will  ?  Well,  Will  himself  had  as  yet  no  very  fixed 
ideas  of  his  own  as  to  whither  he  was  tending.  Being 
only  a  poet,  he  was  content  to  drift  with  the  wind  and 
tide,  and  watch  on  what  shoals  or  shores  they  might 
finally  cast  him.  Most  probably,  if  things  had  been  al- 
lowed to  go  their  own  way,  he  would  sooner  or  later  have 
justified  Florian's  pessimistic  prophecies  by  marrying 
Linnet.  He  would  have  gone  on  and  on,  falling  more 
and  more  deeply  in  love  with  the  pretty  peasant  every 
day,  and  letting  her  fall  every  day  more  and  more  deeply 
in  love  with  him,  till  at  last  conventional  diflferences  sank 
to  nothing  in  his  eyes,  and  he  remembered  only  that 
heart  answereth  to  heart,  be  it  poet's  or  alp-girl's.  At 
present,  however,  he  troubled  himself  little  v/ith  any  of 
these  things.  He  was  satisfied  for  the  moment,  Florian 
said,  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  that  basilisk's  smile,  with- 
out care  for  the  morrow.  Sooner  or  later,  he  felt  sure,  in 
so  small  a  town,  either  Florian  or  he  must  run  up  un- 
awares against  Andreas  Hausberger.  Whenever  that 
happened,  no  doubt,  there  must  be  some  sort  of  change 
or  new  departure.    Meanwhile,  he  religiously  avoided  the 


11: 


w 


134 


LINNET 


mi' 


Promenade,  where  he  was  likeHest  to  come  suddenly  on 
the  wise  impresario.  So  he  stuck  to  the  hills,  with  or 
without  Linnet. 

The  very  next  morning,  indeed,  after  this  their  chance 
meeting,  he  went  up  the  Kiichelberg  once  more,  im- 
pressed with  an  ardent  desire  to  aid  and  abet  Linnet's 
laudable  wish  for  self-education.  He  brought  a  book  up 
with  him  to  read  to  the  two  girls  under  the  bright  blue 
sky,  as  they  sat  on  the  hillside.  He  chose  a  pleasant  spot, 
in  the  full  eye  of  the  autumn  sun,  on  a  rounded  boss  of 
rock,  whose  crumbling  clefts  were  still  starred  with  wild 
pinks  and  rich  yellow  tormentils.  Florian  had  contributed 
to  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul  a  kilogram  of 
grapes — they  cost  but  threepence-halfpenny  a  pound  in 
the  vintage  season — unknown  luxuries  till  then  to  Philip- 
pina  and  Linnet.  Philippina  found  the  grapes  delicious, 
but  the  book  rather  dry;  its  style  was  stilted,  and  it  ap- 
peared to  narrate  the  story  of  a  certain  Doctor  Faust,  his 
transactions  with  a  gentleman  of  most  doubtful  shape 
(who  caused  Philippina  to  look  round  in  some  fear),  and 
his  wicked  designs  against  the  moral  happiness  of  a 
young  girl  called  Gretchen.  Philippina  yawned;  it  was 
a  tedious  performance.  Florian,  having  reduced  his 
share  of  the  grapes  to  their  skins  alone,  yawned  in  con- 
cert with  the  lady,  and  began  to  play  with  his  eyeglass. 
As  his  German  didn't  suffice  to  understand  the  lines,  even 
when  aided  by  Will's  dramatic  delivery  and  clear  enunci- 
ation, he  found  the  play  slow,  and  the  reader  a  nuisance. 
So  he  was  verv  well  pleased  when  Philippina  suggested, 
at  a  break  in  the  first  act,  they  should  go  oflf  for  a  walk 
by  themselves  alone,  and  continue  their  coursv^  of  oral  in- 
struction in  the  German  language.  Florian  liked  Philip- 
pina; there  was  no  silly  nonsense  about  her.  After  all, 
in  a  woman,  if  all  you  want  is  a  walk  on  the  Kiichelberg, 
the  total  absence  of  silly  nonsense,  you  must  at  once  ad- 
mit, is  a  great  recommendation. 

But  Linnet  sat  on.  She  sat  on,  and  listened.  She 
drank  it  in,  open-eyed,  and  with  parted  lips — every  line 
and  every  word  of  it.  Dear  Herr  Will  read  so  well,  and 
made  her  feel  and  understand  every  point  so  dramatically ; 
and  the  book — the  book  itself  was  so  profoundly  interest- 
ing.   Never  in  her  life  before  had  Linnet  heard  anything 


CAUGHT  OUT 


135 


She 
line 
I,  and 
rally ; 
jrest- 
thing 


the  least  bit  like  it.  It  was  grand,  it  was  beautiful !  She 
didn't  know  till  then  the  world  contained  such  books ;  her 
reading  had  been  confined  to  her  alphabet  and  grammar 
at  the  parish  folk-school,  supplemented  by  the  good  little 
tracts  on  purgatory  and  the  holy  saints,  distributed  by  the 
Herr  Vicar  and  the  sisters  at  the  nunnery.  Theological 
literature  v/as  the  sole  form  yet  known  to  her.  This 
weird  tale  about  Gretchen  and  th^  transformed  pniloso- 
pher  opened  out  to  her  new  vistas  of  a  v/orld  of  possibil- 
ities. Long  after,  when  she  sang  in  great  opera-houses, 
as  Marguerite  in  Gounod's  "  Faust,"  she  remembered 
with  a  thrill  how  she  had  first  heard  that  ta!**,  in  Goethe's 
deathless  words,  from  Will  Deverill's  lips,  on  the  green 
slopes  of  the  Kuchelberg. 

She  sat  there  for  an  hour  or  two,  never  heeding  the 
time,  but  listening,  all  entranced,  to  that  beautiful  story. 
Now  and  again  Will  broke  ofif,  and  held  her  hand  for  a 
moment,  and  gazed  deep  into  her  eyes,  and  said  some 
sweet  words  of  his  own  to  her.  He  was  a  poet,  Herr 
Will,  in  his  own  tongue  and  land;  she  knew  now  what 
that  meant — he  could  make  up  such  lovely  things  as  he 
read  from  the  book  to  her.  "  Tell  me  some  of  your  own, 
Herr  Will.  Tell  me  some  of  your  own  verses,"  she  said, 
sighing,  at  last.     "  I  should  love  to  hear  them." 

But  Will  shook  his  head.  "  The  English  is  too  hard. 
You  wouldn't  understand  them,  Linnet,"  he  answered. 

"  Let  me  try,"  Linnet  pleaded,  with  such  a  winning 
look  that  Will  couldn't  resist  her.  And  to  humor  her 
whim,  he  repeated  the  simplest  of  the  laughing  little  love- 
songs  from  his  book  of  **  Voices." 

The  ring  of  it  was  pretty — very  sweet  and  musical. 
Linnet  half  understood — no  more;  for  the  words  were 
too  hard  for  her.  But  it  spurred  her  on  to  further  effort. 
"  You  must  lend  me  some  books  like  that  in  English," 
she  said,  simply.  "  I  want  to  be  wise,  like  you  and  Herr 
Florian." 

So  Will  brought  her  next  day  from  the  book-shop  in 
the  town  the  dainty  little  "  Poetry  Book  of  Modern 
Poets,"  in  the  Tauchnitz  edition.  He  wrote  her  name  in 
it  too;  and  Linnet  took  it  home,  and  hid  it  deep  in  her 
box  in  a  white  silk  handkerchief,  and  read  bits  of  it  by 
night,  very  stealthily  in  her  own  room,  spelling  out  what 


■+.l!i.' 


136 


LINNET 


it  meant  with  Andreas  Hausberger's  dictionary.  Long 
after,  she  had  that  precious  volume  bound  in  white 
Florentine  vellum,  with  a  crimson  Heiirs-de-lys  on  the 
cover,  at  a  house  just  opposite  the  Duomo  at  Florence. 
But  at  present  she  read  it  in  its  paper  covers.  She  read 
other  books,  too — ^German  books  which  Will  chose  for 
her;  not  instructive  books  which  were  over  her  head,  but 
poetry  and  romance  and  imaginative  literature,  such  as 
her  ardent  Tyrolese  nature  could  easily  assimilate.  Day 
after  day,  Will  read  her  aloud  something  fresh — Undine, 
the  Maid  of  Orleans,  Uhland's  Ballads,  Paul  Heyse's 
short  stories — but  of  all  the  things  he  read  to  her,  the 
one  she  liked  best  was  a  German  translation  of  an  Eng- 
lish play — a  beautiful  play  by  another  English  poet,  whose 
name  was  also  Will,  but  who  died  long  ago — a  play  about 
two  luckless  and  devoted  lovers,  called  Pomeo  and  Juliet. 
Linnet  cried  over  that  sad  story,  and  Will  kissed  her 
tears  away ;  and  a  little  later,  when  Andreas  Hausberger 
took  her  to  Verona  on  their  way  south  to  Milan,  Linnet 
went  of  her  own  accord  to  see  Juliet's  tomb  in  a  court- 
yard in  the  town,  and  wasted  much  excellent  sympathy 
and  sentiment  over  the  shameless  imposture  of  that  bare 
Roman  sarcophagus.  But  she  meant  very  well ;  and  she 
believed  in  Juliet  even  more  firmly  than  she  believed  in 
Siegfried  and  Chriemhild  and  all  the  other  fine  folks  to 
whom  Will  introduced  her. 

So  three  weeks  passed  away,  three  glorious  golden 
weeks,  and  day  after  day,  on  those  lovely  hillsides,  Lin- 
net sav;  her  lover.  At  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  Rue  heard, 
from  various  friends  at  other  hotels,  of  a  wonderful  sing- 
er in  a  Tyrolese  troupe,  then  performing  nightly  in  the 
various  salons.  "  Why,  that  must  surely  be  Linnet !  " 
she  said  before  Will,  to  the  first  friend  who  mentioned  it. 

"  Yes ;  Linnet — that's  her  name,"  Rue's  friend  assent- 
ed. 

"  I  knew  she  was  in  the  town,"  Will  admitted  some- 
what sheepishly;  for  he  felt  as  if  he  were  somehow  de- 
ceiving Rue,  though  it  never  would  have  entered  his  good, 
modest  head  to  suppose  she  herself  could  care  anything 
about  him,  except  as  a  poet  in  whose  work  she  was  kind 
enough  to  take  a  friendly  interest. 

"  Ah,  I  should  love  to  he^r  her  again !  "  Rue  cried,  en- 


CAUGHT  OUT 


137 


I  Eng- 


■olden 
Lin- 
Iheard, 
sing- 
in  the 
Inet !  " 
icd  it. 
Issent- 

;ome- 
IkV  de- 

;^ood, 
|thing 

kind 

I,  en- 


thusiastically. "  She  sings  like  a  nightingale — sucn  a 
splendid  soprano !  Let's  find  out  where  she'll  be  to-night, 
and  go  round  in  a  body  to  the  hotel  to  hear  her! 

But  Will  demurred  strongly.  He'd  rather  not  go,  he 
said;  he'd  stop  at  home  by  himself  and  get  on  with  his 
operetta.  At  that,  Rue  was  secretly  pleased  in  her  own 
heart ;  she  felt  it  throb  sensibly.  After  all,  then,  her  poet 
didn't  really  and  truly  care  for  the  pretty  alp-girl.  He 
knew  she  was  in  the  town — and,  in  spite  of  that  knowl- 
edge, had  spent  every  evening  all  the  time  with  herself  at 
the  Erzherzog  Johann!  Nor  would  Florian  go  either; 
he  invented  some  excuse  to  account  for  his  reluctance. 
So  Rue  went  with  two  new  girls  she  had  picked  up  at  the 
hotel,  in  succession  to  the  giggling  inarticulates  at  Inns- 
bruck. Linnet  recognized  her  in  the  crowd,  for  the  room 
was  crowded — 'twas  a  nightly  ovation  now,  wherever 
Linnet  sang — and  knew  her  at  once  as  the  fair-haired 
lady.  But  Florian  and  Will  weren't  with  her  to-night! 
That  made  Linnet's  heart  glad.  She  had  come  without 
him!  After  all,  her  Englander  didn't  always  dance  at- 
tendance, it  seemed,  on  the  fair-haired  Frau  with  the 
many  diamonds ! 

So  easily  had  Will  made  two  women's  hearts  happy, 
by  stopping  at  home  at  his  hotel  that  evening!  For 
women  think  much  more  of  men  than  men  imagine — 
their  poor  little  breasts  live  for  the  most  part  in  a  per- 
petual flutter  of  love  and  expectancy. 

As  the  weeks  wore  away,  however,  it  began  to  strike 
Franz  Lindner  as  a  singular  fact,  that  Philippina  and  Lin- 
net severed  themselves  so  much  every  day  from  the  rest 
of  the  troupe,  and  went  up  on  the  hills  all  alone  for  exer- 
cise. That  fierce  young  Robbler  was  a  true  Tyrolese  in 
his  treatment  of  his  women.  Though  he  never  abated 
one  jot  or  tittle  of  his  attentions  to  Linnet,  it  hardly  oc- 
curred to  him  as  forming  any  part  of  a  lover's  duty  to 
accompany  his  madchen  in  her  morning  rambles.  Franz 
was  too  much  engaged  himself,  indeed,  with  the  young 
men  of  the  place  in  the  cafes  and  beer-gardens,  to  find 
much  time  hanging  idle  on  his  hands  for  female  society. 
He  had  made  many  friends  in  the  gay  little  town.  His 
hat  and  his  feather  were  well  known  by  this  time  io  half 
the  gilded  youth  in    the    Meran    restaurants,    Andreas 


^38 


LINNET 


Haus5erger  had  turned  out  the  young  women  on  the 
hills;  and  there  they  might  stop,  so  far  as  Franz  Lindner 
was  concerned  to  prevent  them.  Andreas  Hausberger 
had  been  wondrous  careful  of  Linnet's  health  of  late,  since 
he  saw  he  was  likely  to  make  pots  of  money  from  her. 
He  had  bound  them  all  down  by  a  three  years'  engage- 
ment, and  he  knew  now  that  Linnet  was  worth  at  least 
five  times  the  sum  he  had  bargained  to  pay  her.  But 
Franz  Lindner's  health  might  take  care  of  itself;  and 
Franz  didn't  think  much,  personally,  of  the  air  of  the 
mountains.  He'd  had  enough  of  all  that  in  his  jager 
days ;  now  the  chrysalis  had  burst  and  let  loose  the  butter- 
fly; his  wander-years  had  come,  and  he  meant  to  sip  the 
sweets  of  advanced  civilization.  And  he  sipped  them  in 
the  second-rate  bars  and  billiard-rooms  of  a  small  town 
in  South  Tyrol. 

On  this  particular  morning,  however,  it  occurred  to 
his  Robblership  to  inquire  in  his  own  mind  why  the 
womenland  loved  to  walk  so  much  by  themselves  on  the 
mountains.  Philippina  hadn't  told  him,  to  be  sure; 
Philippina  had  an  eye  to  Andreas  Hausberger  herself — 
was  he  not  the  zvirth,  and  the  master  of  the  troupe  ? — and 
she  was  therefore  by  no  means  averse  to  any  little  device 
which  might  distract  poor  Linnet  from  that  most  desirable 
admirer.  Still,  Franz  had  his  suspicions.  Women  are 
so  deep,  a  man  can  never  fathom  them !  He  mounted 
the  Kiichelberg  by  the  zig-zag  path,  and  turning  to  the 
left  by  the  third  Madonna,  came  at  last  to  a  little  knoll 
of  bare  porphyry  rock,  looking  down  on  the  wide  vale  and 
the  long  falls  of  the  Adige. 

A  very  small  and  dainty,  not  to  say  effeminate,  young 
man,  in  a  knickerbocker  suit  of  most  Britannic  aspect, 
was  strolling  some  distance  off,  with  his  arm  encircling  a 
woman's  plump  waist,  which  suspiciously  reminded 
Franz  of  his  friend  Philippina's.  The  Robbler  could 
hardly  believe  his  eyes ;  could  that  be  Herr  Florian  ?  Oh 
no;  for  they  had  left  the  foreign  Herrschaft  at  the  hotel 
at  Innsbruck.  But  here,  close  by,  behind  the  shadow  of 
some  junipers — stranger  sight  still! — stretched  at  lergth 
on  the  ground,  and  reading  aloud  in  German  to  some  un- 
seen person,  lav  another  young  man  in  another  tourist 
suit,  with  a  voice  that  most  strikingly  and  exactly  recalled 


CAUGHT  OUT 


139 


irist 
(lied 


the  other  Englander's  at  St.  Valentin.  Franz  drew  a 
deep  breath,  and  strode  a  long  step  forward.  At  sound 
of  his  foot,  the  unseen  person  sprang  back  where  she  sat 
with  a  quick,  small  scream.  Black  as  night  in  his  wrath, 
Franz  peered  round  and  faced  them.  It  was  undoubted- 
ly Will;  quite  as  undoubtedly  Linnet! 

The  Robbler  spoke  angrily.  You  again !  "  he  cried, 
clenching  his  fist,  and  knitting  his  brow  hard,  with  bullet 
head  held  forward.  "Are  you  following  us  in  hiding? 
What  do  you  mean  by  this  trick  ?  You  daren't  show  your 
face,  coward,  at  our  inn  in  the  town !  You  steal  up  here 
and  skulk !    What  do  you  mean  with  the  made  hen  f  " 

At  that  imputation  of  secrecy,  and  still  worse  of 
cowardice,  Will  sprang  up  and  confronted  him.  "  I  dare 
show  my  face  anywhere  you  like,"  he  answered  in  hot 
blood.  "  I  have  not  followed  this  lady ;  I  came  here  be- 
fore her,  and  met  her  at  Meran  by  the  purest  accident. 
But  I  refuse  to  be  questioned  about  her  by  you  or  by  any- 
one. What  right  have  you  to  ask?  She  is  no  madehen 
of  yours.  Who  gave  you  any  power  or  authority  over 
her  ?  " 

For  a  moment  the  Robbler  instinct  rose  fierce  and  hot 
in  Franz  Lindner's  breast.  He  drew  back  half  a  pace,  as 
if  making  ready  to  spring  at  him.  In  a  few  angry  words 
he  repeated  his  cutting  taunts,  and  spoke  savagely  to  Lin- 
net. *'  Go  home,  go  home,  girl ;  you  are  here  for  no 
good!  What  can  this  Englander  want,  save  one  thing, 
with  a  sennerinf  " 

He  laid  his  hand  roughly  on  Linnet's  shoulder.  Will 
couldn't  stand  that  sight;  he  clutched  the  man's  arm 
fiercely,  twisted  it  round  in  the  socket,  and  pushed  him 
back  like  a  child,  in  the  white  heat  of  his  anger.  Franz 
saw  the  interloper  was  strong — far  stronger  than  he  sup- 
posed. "  If  you  dare  to  lay  your  hand  on  this  lady 
again,"  Will  cried,  standing  in  front  of  her  like  a  living 
buckler,  "  I  give  you  due  warning,  you  do  it  at  your  peril. 
Your  life  is  at  stake.  I  won't  permit  you  to  behave 
with  brutality  before  me." 

In  his  native  valley  the  Robbler  would  have  flown  at 
Will's  throat  on  those  words,  and  fought  him,  strong  as 
he  was,  to  the  death,  for  his  madehen.  But  since  he  came 
to  Meran  he  had  learned  some  new  ways:  such  were  not 


140 


LINNET 


he  now  knew,  the  manners  of  civilization.  Will's  reso- 
lute attitude  even  produced  a  calming  effect  upon  the 
young  barbarian.  He  felt  in  his  heart  he  had  a  better 
plan  than  that.  To  beat  Will  in  fair  fight  would,  after 
all,  be  useless ;  the  mddchen  wouldn't  abide,  as  m'ddchen 
ought,  by  the  wager  of  battle.  But  he  could  wound  him 
far  worse.  He  could  go  down  to  the  town — and  tell 
Andreas  Hausberger  how  his  ward  spent  her  mornings 
on  the  slopes  of  the  Kiichelberg! 

Already  he  was  learning  the  ways  of  the  world.  With 
a  sarcastic  smile,  he  raised  his  hat  ceremoniously,  turned 
feather  and  all,  in  mock  politeness.  "  Good  morning, 
mein  Herr,"  he  drawled  out,  with  a  fine  north  German 
accent,  picked  up  in  the  billiard-rooms.  "  Good  morning, 
scnnerin."  And  without  another  word  he  strode  away 
down  the  mountain. 

But  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  Linnet  burst  into  tears. 
"  Ah,  I  know  what  he'll  do ! "  she  cried,  sobbing  and 
trembling.  "  He'll  ^o  down  to  the  town  and  tell  Andreas 
Hausberger.  He"i  go  down  to  the  town  and  tell  '  <m  he 
met  us  here.  And,  of  course,  after  this,  Andreas  put 
the  very  worst  face  upon  it." 


m. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


TAKEN  BY  SURPRISE 


Andreas  Hausberger  was  a  wise  and  prudent  man. 
He  felt  convinced  by  this  time  that  Linnet,  as  he  said  to 
himself — though  to  no  one  else,  for  to  confess  it  would 
have  been  foolish — was  a  perfect  gold  mine,  if  only  a  man 
knew  how  to  work  her  properly.  And  in  exploiting  this 
mine,  like  a  sensible  capitalist  that  he  was,  he  determined 
to  spare  neither  time  nor  pains  nor  money.  Night  after 
night,  as  the  audiences  at  the  hotels  grew  more  and  more 
enthusiastic,  the  truth  forced  itself  upon  his  wise  and 
prudent  mind  that  what  they  said  was  right :  Linnet  was 
a  singer  fit  for  the  highest  undertakings.  She  must  be 
trained  and  instructed  for  the  c^)eratic  stage;  and  on  the 
operatic  stage,  with  that  voice  and  that  presence,  she'd 
be  worth  her  weight  in  gold  if  she  was  worth  a  penny. 

So,  ever  since  the  first  day  when  he  left  the  Zillerthal, 
Andreas's  views  and  ideas  about  his  troupe  and  his  tour 
had  been  undergoing  a  considerable  and  constant  modifica- 
tion. It  would  cost  a  good  deal,  of  course,  to  abandon 
his  first  plan,  and  instead  of  proceeding  to  the  Riviera  &s 
he  originally  intended,  take  Linnet  to  be  trained  at  Milan 
and  Florence.  But  it  was  worth  the  money.  You  must 
throw  a  sprat  to  catch  a  herring.  And  it  must  be  Italy, 
too,  not  Munich  or  Dresden.  He  wouldn't  put  her 
precious  life  in  jeopardy,  now,  in  those  cold  northern 
towns,  during  the  winter  months,  for  he  had  grown  won- 
derfully careful  of  Linnet's  health  since  he  saw  how  her 
voice  conjured  florins  into  the  plate  for  him ;  and  though 
he  believed  as  much  as  ever  in  the  virtues  of  fresh  air 
and  a  Spartan  diet,  he  feared  to  expose  the  throat  that 
uttered  such  golden  notes  to  the  rigors  and  chancres  of  a 
Bavarian  or  Saxon  December.  So  Milan  and  Florence 
it  must  be,  though  he  had  Franz  Lindner  and  Philippina 
and  the  others  on  his  hands  to  pay  and  care  for.    And 

141 


142 


LINNET 


in  those  great  settled  towns,  where  theaters  and  amuse- 
ments were  regularly  organized,  he  couldn't  hope  his  lit- 
tle troupe,  deprived  of  its  chief  ornament,  could  compete, 
save  at  a  loss,  with  more  showy  establishments.  Still, 
to  one  thing  he  had  made  up  his  msind:  Linnet  should 
never  utter  another  note  in  public,  after  they  moved 
from  Meran,  until  she  could  blaze  forth,  a  full-fledged 
star,  armed  and  equipped  at  every  point  with  all  that  art 
could  do  for  her,  on  the  operatic  stage  of  London,  Pr.ris, 
or  Petersburg,  He  must  put  up  with  present  loss  for 
the  sake  of  future  gain ;  he  must  pay  for  his  little  troupe 
and  for  Linnet's  training,  though  he  spent  by  the  way 
his  bottom  dollar. 

Not  that  the  wise  impresario  was  moved  in  this  affair 
by  any  mere  philanthropic  desire  to  benefit  a  favorite 
pupil.  As  a  prior  condition  to  any  expenditure  on  fitting 
and  preparing  Linnet  for  the  operatic  stage,  Andreas 
proposed  to  obtain  a  clear  hold  on  her  future  earnings  by 
the  simple  little  business  preliminary  of  marrying  her. 
And  he  proposed  this  plan  to  himself  in  the  same  simple- 
hearted  and  entirely  dictatorial  way  in  which  he  would 
have  proposed  some  arrangement  about  his  cows  or  his 
horses.  That  Linnet  could  possibly  object  to  his  designs 
for  her  advancement  in  life  was  an  idea  that  hardly  so 
much  as  even  occurred  to  him.  He  was  her  master,  and, 
if  he  ordered  her,  she  could  scarcely  say  him  nay.  That 
would  be  plain  contumacy.  Besides,  the  match  would  be 
one  so  much  to  her  own  advantage!  Not  a  girl  in  St. 
Valentin  but  would  be  overjoyed  to  catch  him.  Philip- 
pina,  he  knev/,  would  give  her  eyes  for  such  a  chance; 
but  Philippina's  high  notes  were  shrill — a  great  deal  too 
shrill — while  Linnet's  were  the  purest  and  clearest  and 
most  silvery  ever  uttered  by  woman.  He  was  a  husband 
any  girl  might  well  be  proud  of,  and  though  Linnet  would 
he  worth  money,  too,  if  properly  trained,  yet  without  his 
capital  to  back  her  up  and  give  her  that  needful  training, 
she  could  never  use  her  voice  to  full  (mercantile)  advan- 
tage. She'd  be  a  fool,  indeed,  if  she  refused  his  offer. 
And  if  she  did, — well,  she  was  bound  to  him  for  three 
years  at  any  rate;  he  could  use  up  her  voice  pretty  well 
in  those  three  years,  as  he  used  up  his  horses — on  com- 


TAKEN  BY  SURPRISE 


H3 


il  too 

and 

kband 

^ouM 

It  his 

Ininpf. 

ivaii" 

)ffer. 

Ithree 

well 

Icom- 


mercial  principles — and  make  a  very  fair  profit  out  of  her 
meanwhile  in  the  process. 

Thinking  which  things  to  himself  during  his  stay  in 
Meran,  Andreas,  who  was  by  nature  a  taciturn  person, 
had  been  in  no  hurry  to  communicate  his  ideas  on  the 
point  prematurely  to  Linnet.  He  didn't  want  to  puff  her 
up  with  too  much  vanity  beforehand,  by  disclosing  to  her 
over-soon  the  high  honor  in  store  for  her.  She  had  re- 
ceived more  than  enough  homage  already  from  the  audi- 
ences at  their  concerts ;  it  would  turn  her  head  outright 
if  she  knew  all  at  once  she  was  also  to  be  promoted  to 
marry  her  master.  He  would  make  all  the  legal  prepara- 
tions for  the  wedding  in  due  time,  without  consulting 
Linnet;  then,  when  everything  was  finished,  and  the  day 
had  come  for  them  to  leave  Meran,  he  would  break  to  her 
all  at  once  the  good  fortune  he  designed  for  her.  Not 
only  was  she  to  marry  a  man  of  substance,  and  a  man  of 
weight,  and  a  Land-amt  of  the  parish,  but  she  was  to  be 
trained  and  fitted  by  him  with  sedulous  care  as  a  special 
star  of  the  operatic  profession. 

When  Franz  Lindner  burst  in  upon  him,  however,  at 
his  old-fashioned  inn,  in  the  street  that  is  called  Unter 
den  Lauben,  all  indignant  with  the  news  how  he  had 
lighted  upon  Linnet  and  the  Herr  Englander  together  on 
the  slopes  of  the  Kuchelberg,  and  how  he  believed  they 
had  been  meeting  there  secretly  for  lany  mornings  at  a 
stretch,  Andreas  saw  at  once  this  was  no  laughing  mat- 
ter. It  was  serious  rivalry.  For  Franz  Lindner  himself, 
as  a  possible  suitor  of  Linnet's,  he  didn't  care  a  button. 
He  could  afford  to  despise  the  self-assertive  Robbler. 
But  Will  Deverill — ah,  that  was  quite  another  matter! 
Will  Deverill  was  dangerous ;  he  saw  so  much  at  a  glance ; 
and  all  the  more  dangerous  in  that  he  made  his  advances 
to  the  girl  clandestinely.  Poaching  on  those  preserves 
must  be  severely  repressed.  Andreas  didn't  for  a  moment 
suppose  the  Englander  intended  or  wanted  to  marry  the 
child;  that  was  hardly  likely:  but  he  might  upset  her  feel- 
ings, and,  lead  her  into  trouble,  and  unsettle  her  heart,  and 
what  was  worse  still,  stuff  her  head  all  full  of  silly  ro- 
mantic nonsense. 

Still,  being  always  a  prudent  man,  Andreas  said  little 


w 


144 


LINNET 


at  the  time.  He  was  content  with  assuring  Franz,  In  a 
very  confident  tone,  that  he'd  put  a  stop  at  once  to  this 
folly  of  Linne  s.  He  acquiesced  for  the  present — it  be- 
ing his  nature  to  temporize. — in  Franz's  little  pretension 
to  treat  the  girl  as  his  acknowledged  mddchen.  He  ac- 
quiesced, and  smiled, — though  he  hadn't  the  slightest  in- 
tention of  relinquishing  his  own  hold  on  a  future  prima 
donna.  Meanwhile,  he  pushed  on  all  the  legal  formalities 
for  marrying  Linnet  himself,  as  soon  as  he  thought  it 
well  to  disclose  his  matured  plans  to  her. 

So  when  Will  went  up  to  their  stated  meeting-place  on 
the  slopes  of  the  Kiichelberg,  the  morning  after  that 
stormy  interview  at  the  knoll  with  Franz  Lindner,  hardly 
daring  to  expect  Linnet  would  be  there  to  receive  him, 
he  was  astonished  to  find  her  awaiting  him  much  as  usual 
at  the  accustomed  seat,  undeterred  by  either  the  zvirtit 
or  the  redoubtable  Robbler.  "  I  can't  understand  it  my- 
self." she  said,  holding  his  hand,  and  half  crying.  "  It's 
awfully  curious.  I  thought  he'd  be  angry  with  me,  and 
scold  me  so  hard,  and  perhaps  shut  me  up  in  the  house  for 
a  week,  or,  at  any  rate,  not  let  me  come  out  any  more 
to  meet  you.  But,  instead  of  that,  he  never  said  a  word ; 
he  hasn't  even  spoken  to  me  at  all  about  the  matter.  Per- 
haps Franz  hasn't  told  him  yet ;  but  I  think  he  must  have — 
and  so  does  Philippina.  It  almost  seems  as  if  he  didn't 
mind  my  coming  out  at  all.  We  can  only  wait  and  see. 
That's  all  I  can  make  of  it." 

Thus,  for  the  next  few  days,  Linnet  and  Will  lived  on 
in  a  real  fool's  paradise.  Andreas  never  said  a  word 
about  the  meetings  on  the  hill ;  Franz  Lindner  looked 
wise,  and  bided  his  time  in  silence.  At  the  end  of  the 
week,  however.  Will  found  himself  reluctantly  compelled 
to  fulfil  a  long-standing  engagement  with  Rue  and  Flo- 
rian,  entered  into  before  Linnet's  arrival  at  Meran,  to  go 
for  a  three  days'  tour  among  the  Botzen  Dolomites.  Will 
had  put  it  off  and  put  it  off.  not  to  miss  one  morning  of 
Linnet's  time  in  the  town,  till  Rue  declared  in  her  imperi- 
ous little  American  way  she  wouldn't  wait  a  single  day 
longer  for  anyone.  And,  indeed,  it  was  getting  full  late 
in  the  season,  even  south  of  the  Alps,  for  a  mountain  ex- 
cursion. Rue  had  ordered  her  carriage,  and  settled  her 
day  to  start.    Will  must  go  or  stop  behind,  she  said ;  and 


TAKEN  BY  SURPRISE 


145 


ex- 
her 
and 


to  do  the  last  would  be  to  confess  all  to  Rue;  so  with  a 
pang  at  his  heart  and  no  small  misgivings  in  his  brain — 
for  Linnet  by  this  time  had  grown  wonderfully  dear  to 
him — he  made  up  his  mind  to  absent  himself  for  three 
days,  and  to  miss  three  precious  mornings  on  the  hills 
with  his  lady-love.  It  would  freshen  up  the  operetta, 
Rue  declared,  with  deep  conviction;  there's  nothing  like 
change  of  scene  to  inspire  one  with  the  germs  of  poetry 
and  music.  But  Will,  for  his  part,  knew  something  bet- 
ter— and  he  got  it  every  day  on  the  slopes  of  the  Kiichel- 
berg. 

"  You  won't  go  away  while  I'm  gone?  "  he  asked  eager- 
ly of  Linnet,  on  the  day  before  he  left  for  those  hateful 
Dolomites.  "  You're  sure  Andreas  means  to  stop  longer 
in  the  town.     You'll  be  here  when  I  come  back  again  ? " 

"  Oh  yes ;  quite  certain,"  Linnet  answered,  confidently. 
"  He's  not  going  away  yet.  We've  engagements  at  hotels 
for  nearly  another  fortnight." 

Will  held  her  hand  long.  It  was  only  for  three  days, 
yet  he  found  it  hard  to  part  from  her.  "  One  last  kiss !  " 
he  said,  drawing  her  close  to  liim  behind  the  sheltering 
gourd-vines.  And  Linnet  let  him  take  it  without  strug- 
gling for  it  now.  In  after  years,  Will  felt  those  words 
were  a  kind  of  omen.  It  was  far  more  of  a  last  kiss  than 
ever  he  dreamed  at  the  time.  And  Linnet — well,  Linnet 
was  glad  in  her  heart,  when  she  came  to  look  back  on  it, 
she  had  allowed  him  to  take  that  last  kiss  so  easily. 

Next  morning  Will  left.  Andreas  knew  he  had  gone. 
Not  many  things  escaped  the  wise  Andreas's  notice, 
from  the  moment  he  first  heard  of  Will's  meetings  with 
Linnet  on  the  hill  behind  the  town,  that  cool-headed  wirth 
had  been  waiting  for  his  chance;  and  now  the  chance 
had  come  of  its  own  accord  to  him.  That  day,  after 
dinner,  he  went  into  the  parlor  of  their  little  inn,  and 
called  Linnet  to  speak  to  him.  Linnet  came,  all  tremb- 
ling. In  a  few  short  sentences — concise,  curt,  business- 
like— Andreas  unfolded  to  his  tremulous  ward  the  notable 
scheme  he  had  devised  for  her  advancement.  He  would 
make  her  his  wife.  But  that  wasn't  all ;  he  would  make 
her  a  great  lady — a  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  If  she 
did  as  he  bid,  crowds  would  hang  on  her  lips;  silver  and 
gold  would  be  hers;  she  should  dress  in  silk  robes,  dia- 


|5  ' 


146 


LINNET 


monds  dangling  at  her  ears,  pearls  in  strings  on  her  bos- 
om. But  he  said  never  a  word  about  her  heretic  lover. 
Still,  be  said  never  a  word  about  himself  any  more.  He 
never  mentioned  love — her  heart,  her  feelings.  He  laid 
before  her,  like  a  man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  a  simple 
proposal  for  an  arrangement  between  them — in  much  the 
same  spirit  as  he  might  have  laid  before  Franz  Lindner 
an  agreement  for  a  partnership.  And  he  took  it  for 
granted  Linnet  would  instantly  jump  at  him.  Why 
shouldn't  she,  indeed?  She  had  every  reason.  Not  a 
girl  in  St.  Valentin  but  would  be  proud  if  she  could  get 
him. 

Yet  he  wasn't  the  least  surprised  when  Linnet,  grow- 
ing pale,  and  with  quivering  lips,  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands  at  last  and  began  to  cry  bitterly.  These  girls  are 
so  silly  1 

"  You  agree  to  it  ?  "  Andreas  asked,  laying  his  palm  on 
her  neck  behind  with  what  tenderness  he  could  muster. 

Linnet  shook  it  away  angrily.  "  Never,  never ! "  she 
cried,  **  never !  " 

Andreas  bore  with  her  patiently.  He  knew  the  ways  of 
women.  They  were  all  little  idiots !  And  this  England- 
er  on  the  hill  had  filled  her  poor  head  with  sentimental 
rubbish.  With  infinite  forebearance,  like  a  business  man, 
he  began  to  explain,  to  expostulate,  to  admonish  her.  He 
pointed  out  to  her  how  rare  a  chance  in  life  it  was  for  a 
girl  in  her  position  to  get  an  ofl^er  of  marriage  from  a 
man  in  his;  how  his  capital  would  enable  her  to  train 
herself  for  the  stage ;  how,  without  it,  she  must  remain  for 
ever  just  what  she  was  now ;  how,  with  it,  she  might  rise 
to  the  very  crown  and  head  of  an  admired  profession. 
And,  besides,  she  was  bound  to  him  for  three  years  in 
any  case.  In  those  three  years,  of  course,  he  could  do  as 
he  liked  with  her. 

But  Linnet,  weeping  passionately,  with  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  every  nerve  in  her  body  quivering  with  emo- 
tion, only  sobbed  out  now  and  again  in  a  heart-broken 
voice,  "  No ;  never,  never !  " 

At  last,  after  one  such  convulsive  outburst,  even  fiercer 
than  before,  Andreas  put  the  question  point  blank,  "  Is 
it  because  of  this  Englander  ?  " 

And  Linnet,  raising  her  head,  and  clasping  her  hands 


TAKEN  BY  SURPRISE 


147 


her 


lo- 


in despair,  made  answer,  obliquely,  in  one  wild  burst  of 
speech,  "  Oh,  I  love  him,  I  love  him !  " 

At  those  words,  Andreas  smiled  a  peculiar  cold  smile, 
and  began  once  more.  He  kept  his  head  cool;  he  ex- 
plained, he  reasoned.  The  Englander,  of  course,  never 
meant  to  marry  her.  Marriage  in  such  a  case  was  out 
of  the  question.  She  must  know  what  that  meant ;  why 
go  off  on  such  side-issues  ?  ...  And,  besides,  she  must 
never  forget — the  man  was  a  heretic ! 

Still,  Linnet,  unflinching,  looked  up  and  clasped  her 
hands.  "  I  don't  care  for  that/*  she  cried  wildly.  "  I 
love  him !     I  love  him !  " 

"  Then  you  refuse,  point  blank  ?  "  Andreas  asked,  step- 
ping a  little  aside,  and  holding  the  knob  of  the  bedroom 
door  in  his  hand,  half-irresolute. 

"  I  utterly  refuse ! "  Linnet  answered,  very  firm,  but 
sobbing. 

With  an  air  of  cruel  triumph,  Andreas  opened  wide  the 
door.  "  Come  in,  Herr  Vicar ! "  he  cried,  with  real 
theatrical  effect.  And  even  as  he  spoke,  the  Herr  Vicar 
entered. 

Linnet  gazed  at  him,  dumb  with  awe,  surprise,  and 
amazement.  How  had  he  ever  got  here?  It  was  her 
own  parish  priest — her  confessor  from  St.  Valentin ! 


rcer 
Is 


Inds 


CHAPTER  XIX 


SPIRITUAL  WEAPONS 


„,i. ., 


The  Herr  Vicar  in  Meran.  It  was  wonderful,  miracu- 
lous! 

For  a  minute  or  two,  Linnet  was  so  utterly  taken  aback 
at  this  unexpected  portent  that  she  hardly  knew  how  to 
comport  herself  under  such  novel  circumstances.  Now, 
that  was  exactly  the  result  Andreas  Hausberger  had 
counted  upon.  Andreas  loved  not  the  Church,  to  be  sure, 
but,  like  all  sound  strategists,  political  or  social,  he  knew 
how  to  make  use  of  it  for  his  own  wise  purposes.  As 
soon  as  ever  he  learned  from  Franz  Lindner  how  things 
were  going  on  between  Linnet  and  her  Englander,  and 
had  ascertained  by  private  inquiry  from  the  Herr  Ober- 
kellner  at  the  Erzherzog  Johann  that  Herr  Will  was  go- 
ing away  for  a  few  days'  tour  among  the  Botzen  Dolo- 
mites,— why,  taking  opportunity  by  the  forelock,  he  tele- 
graphed at  once  to  the  Herr  Vicar  at  St.  Valentin  to  come 
on  by  the  first  train,  all  expenses  paid,  over  the  Brenner 
to  Meran,  on  purpose  to  save  the  soul  of  an  erring  mem- 
ber of  his  flock,  in  imminent  danger  of  faith  and  morals, 
from  a  heretic  Englishman.  And  the  Herr  Vicar,  in  re- 
turn, though  he  loved  not  Andreas — for  the  zvirth  was 
a  Liberal,  an  enemy  of  the  "  Blacks,"  and  reputed  to  be 
even  not  far  short  of  a  freethinker — the  Herr  Vicar,  for 
his  part,  was  by  no  means  averse  to  a  pleasant  holiday 
in  a  fashionable  watering-place  south  of  the  Alps  at  that 
delightful  season,  especially  if  some  one  else  was  to  pay 
the  piper.  It  is  well  to  combine  the  salvation  of  souls 
with  an  agreeable  excursion.  The  Herr  Vicar  was  pre- 
pared to  make  free  use  of  the  Mammon  of  Unrighteous- 
ness— in  the  Church's  service;  a  good  pastor  employs  it 
without  stint  or  compunction  to  secure  the  eternal  bliss 
of  the  particular  flock  committed  to  his  guidance. 

Not  that  the  astute  priest  began  at  once  with  the  mat- 

148 


SPIRITUAL  WEAPONS 


149 


pay 
souls 


n  bliss 


mat- 


I 


ter  in  hand,  on  which  Herr  Andreas  had  already  most 
amply  coached  him.  He  was  far  too  wise  and  politic  a 
fisher  of  souls  for  so  clumsy  a  procedure.  He  angled 
gently.  He  started  on  his  task  by  striking,  first,  all  the 
familiar  home  chords  of  St.  Valentin.  The  moment  he 
entered  the  room,  indeed,  Linnet  rushed  up  and  seized 
his  hand — she  had  known  him  from  her  childhood,  and 
taken  the  mass  from  him  often ;  she  had  confessed  to  him 
her  sins,  and  received  tim.e  and  ag^in  his  paternal  blessing. 
At  such  a  moment  as  that  any  old  friend  from  St.  Valentin 
would  have  been  a  welcome  counselor:  how  much  more 
then  the  Herr  Vicar,  who  had  taught  her  the  Credo,  and 
the  Vater  Unser,  and  the  Ave ;  who  had  prepared  her  lisp- 
ing lips  for  First  Communion ;  who  had  absolved  her  from 
her  sins  from  her  babyhood  onward!  And  he  had  seen 
that  dear  mother  only  the  day  before !  How  she  flooded 
him  with  questions  as  to  everyone  at  St.  Valentin. 

The  Herr  Vicar,  in  reply,  folding  two  plump  hands 
over  his  capacious  waistband,  sank  back  in  an  easy-chair, 
and  answered  her  at  full  length  as  to  all  that  had  happened 
since  she  left  the  village.  The  good  mother  was  well, 
very  well  indeed,  seldom  better  in  November;  some  holy 
oil  rubbed  on  night  and  morning,  had  proved  highly  ef- 
fectual against  her  threatened  rheumatism.  Oh  yes;  she 
had  duly  received  the  five  florins  that  Linnet  sent  her — 
thanks  very  much  for  them — and  had  expended  two  of 
them,  as  Linnet  would  no  doubt  herself  have  wished,  in 
the  performance  of  a  mass  for  the  deliverance  of  the  dear 
father's  soul  from  purgatory.  She  knew  the  Herr  Vicar 
was  coming  to  Meran,  and  would  see  her  daughter,  and 
she  had  sent  many  messages  (all  detailed  at  full  length) 
— how  the  cow  with  the  crooked  horn  was  giving  no  milk, 
and  how  the  cat  had  five  kittens,  and  how  pleased  they  all 
were  to  hear  at  St.  Valentin  there  was  talk  Linnet  was  to 
make  such  a  brilliant  marriage. 

Then  poor  Linnet  faltered  out,  half-sobbing  again, 
when  the  Herr  Vicar  spoke  of  that  mass  for  the  repose 
of  her  father's  soul,  how  great  a  trial  it  had  been  to  her 
to  be  away  from  St.  Valentin  for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
on  All  Souls  Day — the  Feast  of  the  Dead — when  it  had 
always  been  her  custom  to  lay  a  little  wreath,  and  burn 
four  small  tapers  on  her  father's  grave  in  the  village 


ISO 


LINNET 


churchyard.  She  was  afraid  that  dear  spirit  in  its  present 
home  would  feel  itself  neglected  by  the  duty  unperformed 
in  due  season. 

But  the  Herr  Vicar,  with  a  benign  smile,  was  happy 
he  should  be  able  to  reassure  her  as  to  this  matter.  The 
candles  and  the  wreath  had  been  forthcoming  as  usual; 
he  had  seen  to  them  himself — at  Herr  Andreas's  request, 
who  had  written  to  him  on  the  subject  from  Meran  most 
thoughtfully. 

That  was  kind,  Linnet  thought,  far  kinder  than  she 
ever  could  have  expected  from  Andreas.  But  that  wasn't 
all.  He  had  provided  in  many  ways,  or  intended  to  pro- 
vide, for  the  good  mother's  comfort.  Then  the  Herr 
Vicar  went  on  to  speak  still  more  of  Andreas,  who  slipped 
out  as  he  spoke,  leaving  priest  and  penitent  alone  together. 
So  Herr  Andreas,  it  seemed,  was  going  to  marry  her! 
For  a  girl  lilce  her,  that  was  a  very  great  honor.  And 
the  sooner  the  better,  indeed ;  the  sooner  the  better !  These 
were  grave  and  painful  rumors  now  afloat  in  St.  Valen- 
tin— and  the  Herr  Vicar  shook  his  head  in  solemn  warn- 
ing— grave  and  painful  rumors,  how  Linnet  had  been  seen 
on  the  hillsides  more  than  once — with  an  English  heretic. 
And  he  had  followed  her  to  Innsbruck !  and  then  to  Mer- 
an !  and  now.  Heaven  knew  what  he  was  trying  to  do  with 
her!  Twas  a  dangerous  thing,  a  compromising  thing 
(the  Herr  Vicar  thought)  for  a  girl  to  get  involved  in  an 
aflFair  like  that  with  a  man  so  much  above  herself  in  po- 
sition and  station.  But  Herr  Andreas  was  so  kind,  and 
consented  to  overlook  it ;  there  were  very  few  men  who  in 
a  similar  case  would  act  like  Herr  Andreas.  In  other 
matters  the  Herr  Vicar  had  withstood  him  to  his  face,  be- 
cause he  was  to  be  blamed;  but  in  this,  he  had  behaved 
like  a  generous  gentleman. 

To  all  which,  poor  Linnet,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands, 
only  made  answer  once  more,  "  I  can  never  marry  An- 
dreas Hausberger." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  the  priest  asked,  sharply. 

And  Linnet,  hardly  knowing  how  to  answer  him  for 
fear  and  shame,  yet  murmured  very  low,  "  Because  I  don't 
love  him." 

Then  the  Herr  Vicar,  thus  aroused,  went  oflf  at  a  tan- 


SPIRITUAL  WEAPONS 


151 


for 
don't 

tan- 


gent  into  a  clerical  exhortation  on  the  nature,  duties,  and 
inducements  of  matrimony.  We  must  remember  that,  in 
these  matters,  the  wishes  of  the  flesh  were  not  alone  or 
even  chiefly  to  be  consulted.  They  were  of  minor  im- 
portance. There  was  her  duty  as  a  daughter,  for  ex- 
ample: Herr  Andreas  was  rich;  how  much  might  he  not 
do  to  lighten  her  mother's  old  age?  how  much  to  release 
her  poor  father's  soul  from  the  flames  of  purgatory? 
There  was  her  duty  as  a  woman,  and  a  child  of  the 
Church ;  how  much  might  not  Herr  Andreas's  money  en- 
able her  to  accomplish  for  the  good  of  the  world  and  for 
the  souls  of  her  people?  She  was  still  a  giddy  girl. 
What  temptations  such  a  marriage  would  enable  her  to 
avoid ;  what  a  brilliant  future  in  the  end  it  might  open  out 
before  her!  And  then  these  floating  rumors  had  dis- 
turbed him  much ;  on  his  way  from  Jenbach,  if  she  would 
only  believe  him,  he  had  said  prayers  on  her  behalf  to 
Our  Lady,  to  preserve  her  honor. 

But  Linnet,  raising  her  head,  and  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eyes,  made  answer  at  last  in  these  wicked,  rebellious 
words,  "  I  love  the  Engliinder !  Ah,  I  love  the  Eng- 
lander!  If  ever  I  marry  at  all,  I'll  marry  the  Eng- 
lander!" 

The  Herr  Vicar  grew  grave.  This  was  a  case,  indeed, 
not  for  humoring  and  coaxing,  but  for  the  sternest  ad- 
monition. And  he  administered  it  without  stint.  With 
the  simple  directness  of  the  Tyrolese  priest,  accustomed 
to  deal  with  coarse,  straightforward  natures,  he  spoke  the 
plain  truth ;  he  brought  her  future  sin  home  to  her  with 
homely  force  and  unvarnished  language.  In  the  first 
place,  this  young  man  clearly  meant  no  good  by  her. 
That  was  obvious  to  everyone.  Now,  if  he  were  one  of 
her  own  sort,  a  faithful  son  of  the  Church,  and  a  Tyrolese 
jager,  well,  the  Herr  Vicar  might,  in  that  case,  have  been 
disposed,  no  doubt,  to  be  somewhat  more  lenient.  He 
admitted,  while  he  deplored,  the  temptations  and  difficul- 
ties of  a  sennerin's  life,  and  was  never  too  hard  on  them. 
And  besides,  in  such  circumstances,  the  young  man  might 
mean  in  the  end  to  marry  her.  But  this  Englander  as- 
suredly meant  nothing  of  the  kind ;  and,  what  was  worse, 
even  if  he  did,  the  Herr  Vicar  could  by  no  means  approve 


152 


LINNET 


Z^-  .A\'   ■iV..'-'A 


of  such  a  union.  The  Holy  See,  acting  as  ever  on  the 
Apostolic  advice,  "  Be  not  unequally  yoked  together  with 
unbelievers,"  disallowed  and  discouraged  the  union  of 
Catholics  with  Jews,  heretics,  infidels,  and  other  schis- 
matics, under  one  or  other  of  which  unholy  categories 
(and  the  Herr  Vicar  frowned)  he  must  needs  place  her 
Englander.  True,  the  Holy  Father  was  sometimes 
pleased,  on  good  cause  duly  shown,  to  grant  certain  per- 
sons an  exceptional  dispensation.  But  even  if  the  Eng- 
lander desired  to  marry  her,  which  was  scarcely  likely, 
and  even  if  he  consented  to  invoke  such  aid,  which  was 
still  more  improbable,  how  could  he,  the  Herr  Vicar, 
knowing  the  young  man's  circumstances,  back  up  such  a 
request  ? — how  consign  a  lamb  of  his  flock  to  the  keeping 
of  an  infidel  ?  Every  sentiment  of  gratitude  should  bind 
her  to  Herr  Andreas.  Every  feeling  of  a  Catholic  should 
turn  her  instinctively  away  from  the  false  wiles  of  a 
schismatic. 

To  all  which  theological  argument,  Linnet,  raising  her 
head,  and  wringing  her  hands,  only  answered  once  more, 
in  a  wildly  despairing  voice,  "  But  I  love  him,  I  love 
him ! " 

The  priest  saw  at  once  this  was  a  case  for  strong  meas- 
ures. Unless  he  adopted  them,  a  lamb  might  slip  from 
his  pastoral  grasp,  a  doubtful  soul  might  stray  for  ever 
from  the  fold  of  true  believers.  He  put  on  at  once  the  set 
tone  and  manner  of  the  confessional.  It  was  no  longer 
a  question  now  of  merely  meeting  Herr  Andreas's  wishes 
— though  Herr  Andreas's  aid  would  be  most  useful  indeed 
in  the  affairs  of  the  parish ;  it  was  a  question  of  pre- 
serving this  poor  sheep  of  his  flock  from  everlasting 
perdition.  What  are  a  few  fleeting  years,  with  this  lover 
or  that,  compared  with  an  eternity  of  unceasing  torment? 
The  Herr  Vicar  was  an  honest  and  conscientious  man, 
according  to  his  lights;  this  poor  girl  was  in  dcc^dly 
danger  of  her  immortal  soul — and  that  window  for  the 
chancel,  which  Herr  Andreas  vowed,  would  be  a  work  of 
piety  most  pleasing  to  their  holy  patron  saint,  the  blessed 
Valentin. 

So,  with  all  the  strength  of  imagery  he  possessed  at  his 
command,  the  priest  began  to  play  of  deliberate  design 


SPIRITUAL  WEAPONS 


151 


irom 


nan, 
«dlv 
the 
kof 
issed 

his 
isign 


upon  the  chords  of  poor  Linnet's  superstitious  terror.  In 
horribly  vivid  and  reahstic  language,  such  as  only  a  Tyro- 
lese  tongue  could  command,  he  conjured  up  before  her 
mind  that  familiar  picture  of  dead  souls  in  purgatory,  lost 
souls  in  torment.  He  poured  out  upon  her  trembling 
head  all  the  thunders  of  the  Church  against  unholy  love, 
or,  what  came  to  the  same  thing,  against  an  uncatholic 
union.  Linnet  listened,  and  cowered.  To  you  and  me, 
this  would  just  have  been  a  well-meaning  but  ignorant 
parish  priest;  to  Linnet,  he  was  the  embodied  voice  of 
all  Catholic  Christendom.  She  had  sat  upon  his  knees; 
she  had  learnt  prayers  from  his  lips ;  she  had  looked  upon 
him  for  years  as  the  mouthpiece  of  whatever  was  right 
and  just  and  holy.  And  now,  he  was  bringing  all  the 
weight  of  his  authority  to  bear  against  the  dictates  of  her 
poor  hot  heart ;  he  was  terrif}  mg  her  with  his  words ;  he 
was  denouncing  upon  her  the  horrible  woes  of  apostasy. 
Whether  the  man  meant  to  marry  her  or  not,  all  was 
equally  sin ;  she  was  bent  on  the  downward  path ;  she  was 
flying  in  the  face  of  God  and  His  priest,  to  her  own  de- 
struction. She  might  marry  Andreas  or  not — that  was  a 
question  of  inclination  ;  but  if  she  persisted  in  her  relations 
with  an  infidel,  who  could  mean  her  no  good,  she  was 
hurrying  straight  to  the  devil  and  all  his  angels.  And  the 
devil  and  all  his  angels  were  very  real  and  very  near  in- 
deed to  Linnet ;  the  flames  of  purgatory  were  as  familiar 
to  her  eyes  as  the  fire  on  the  hearth ;  the  tortures  of  hell 
were  as  solid  and  as  material  as  she  had  seen  them  pic- 
tured on  every  roadside  oratory. 

And  the  effect?  Ah,  well,  only  those  who  know  the 
profound  religious  faith  of  the  Tyroles.e  peasantry  can 
fully  understand  the  appalling  effect  this  pastoral  ex- 
hortation produced  upon  Linnet.  It  was  no  new  dis- 
covery, indeed.  All  along,  amid  the  tremulous  delight 
of  her  first  great  love,  she  had  known  in  her  heart  this 
thing  she  was  doing,  though  sweet — too  sweet — was  un- 
speakably wicked.  She  was  paltering  with  sin,  giving 
her  heart  to  a  heretic.  She  herself  had  seen  him  pass 
many  a  wayside  crucifix,  many  a  shrine  of  Our  Dear 
Lady,  without  raising  his  hat  or  letting  his  knee  do  obei- 
sance, as  was  right,  before  them.     He  was  good,  he  was 


!•;  ''i: 


154 


LINNET 


kind ;  in  a  purely  human  sort  of  way  he  sympathized  with 
her,  and  understood  her  as  no  one  else  in  the  yorld  had 
ever  yet  done;  but  still — he  was  a  heretic.  She  had 
known  that  all  along ;  she  had  known  the  danger  she  ran, 
and  the  end,  the  horrible  end,  it  must  finally  lead  her  to. 
And  now,  when  her  parish  priest,  her  earliest  friend,  her 
own  tried  confessor,  pointed  out  her  sin  to  her,  she  quiv- 
ered and  crouched  before  him  in  bodily  terror  and  abject 
submission.  The  flames  of  hell  seemed  to  rise  up  and 
take  hold  of  her.  And  the  more  frightened  she  grew,  the 
more  vehement  and  fierce  grew  the  priest's  denunciation. 
He  saw  his  opportunity,  and  made  the  best  use  of  it. 
What  were  the  few  short  years  of  this  life  to  an  eternity 
of  pain?  What  a  dream  of  brief  love  to  fiery  floods  for 
ever  ? 

At  last,  appalled  and  horrified,  Linnet,  bowing  her 
frightened  head,  held  up  her  bloodless  hands,  and  begged 
convulsively  for  mercy.  "  Give  me  absolution,"  she 
cried ;  "  Father !  O  Father,  forgive  me !  " 

Her  confessor  seized  the  occasion,  for  her  soul's  benefit. 
"  Not  unless  you  abandon  him ! "  he  answered,  in  a  very 
stern  voice.  **  While  you  remain  in  your  sin,  how  can 
God's  priest  absolve  you  ?  " 

Linnet  wrung  her  hands  for  a  moment  in  silent  agony. 
She  couldn't  give  him  up  Oh,  no;  she  couldn't! 
"  Father,"  she  cried  at  last  with  a  despairing  burst, 
"  what  shall  I  do  to  be  s  .^  ed  ?     Guide  me !     Save  me !  " 

The  priest  snatched  at  tlie  chance.  "  Will  you  come 
back  to  St.  Valentin  to-morrow  ?  "  he  asked,  with  two  up- 
lifted fingers  poised  half-doubtful  in  air,  as  if  waiting  to 
bless  her.  "  Will  you  come  back  to  St.  Valentin — and 
marry  Andreas  Hausberger  ?  " 

In  an  agony  of  abject  religious  terror.  Linnet  bowed 
her  head.  "  Is  there  no  other  way  ?  "  she  cried,  trembling. 
**  No  other  way  of  salvation  ?  " 

The  priest  pressed  his  advantage.  "  If  you  die^  to- 
night," he  answered,  in  a  very  solemn  voice,  "  you  would 
die  in  your  sin,  and  hell's  mouth  would  yawn  wide  for 
you.  Accept  the  escape  an  honorable  man  oflfers  you,  and 
be  clear  of  your  heretic ! " 

Linnet  flung  herself  on  her  knees,  and  clasped  her 
hands  before  him.    The  horrors  of  eternity  and  of  the  of- 


her 
of- 


SPIRITUAL  WEAPONS 


155 


fended  Church  made  her  shake  in  every  limb.     She  was 
half-duftib  with  terror. 

*'  I'll  do  as  you  wish,  Father,"  she  moaned,  in  a  voice 
of  hushed  awe,  "  if  you'll  only  bless  me.  I'll  go  back  to 
St.  Valentin  and  marry  Andreas  Hausberger  I  " 


;lim[ 


CHAPTER  XX 


FLORIAN  ON   MATRIMONY 

In  Spite  of  the  lateness  of  the  season,  and  Will's  preoccu- 
p:!tion,  that  visit  to  the  Dolomites  turned  out  a  complete 
success.  Rue  was  in  excellent  spirits;  Florian  was  in 
fine  form ;  Nature  f^miled  compliance  as  he  consummately 
phrased  it — in  other  words,  the  weather  was  lovely,  the 
mountains  clear  of  cloud,  the  horses  fresh,  and  the  roads 
(for  Austria)  in  very  good  order.  Their  capacious  car- 
riage held  its  party  of  five  comfortably. — for  Rue,  with 
her  wonted  wisdom,  had  consulted  Mrs.  Grundy's  feel- 
ings by  inviting  an  old  Indian  colonel  and  his  wife,  whose 
acquaintance  she  had  picked  up  at  the  Erzherzog  Johann, 
to  accompany  them  on  their  trip,  and  chaperon  the  ex- 
pedition. Rue  herself  enjoyed  those  four  days  immense- 
ly. She  had  lots  of  long  talks  with  Will  on  the  hillsides, 
and  she  noticed  Will  spoke  much — though  always  in  an 
abstract  and  highly  impersonal  way — of  the  human  heart, 
its  doubts  and  its  difficulties.  He  was  thinking  of  Lin- 
net, who  engaged  his  thoughts  much  during  that  enforced 
absence;  but  Rue  imagined  he  was  thinking  of  himself 
and  her,  and  was  glad  accordingly.  She  was  growing 
very  fond  of  her  English  poet.  She  hoped  and  half-be- 
lieved he  in  turn  was  growing  fond  of  her. 

As  for  Will,  now  he  was  away  from  Linnet  for  awhile, 
he  began  to  think  much  more  seriously  than  he  had  ever 
thought  before  of  the  nature  of  his  relations  with  her,  and 
the  end  to  which  they  were  ''nevitably  leading  him.  As 
long  as  Linnet  was  near,  as  long  as  he  could  hold  her 
hand  in  his,  and  look  deep  into  her  eyes,  and  hear  that 
wonderful  voice  of  hers  carolling  out  some  sweet  song 
for  his  ear  alone  among  the  clambering  vineyards, — why, 
he  could  think  of  nothing  else  but  the  passing  joy  and  de- 
light of  her  immediate  presence.  Imperceptibly,  and 
half-unconsciously  to  himself,  she  had  grown  very  dear 

156 


FLORIAN  ON  MATRIMONY 


157 


'hile, 
ever 
and 
As 
her 
that 
ong: 
vhy, 
de- 
and 
lear 


to  him.  But  now  that  he  was  away  from  her,  and  alone 
with  Rue,  he  began  to  realize  how  much  he  longed  to  be 
once  more  by  her  side — how  little  he  was  prepared  to  do 
without  her,  how  deeply  she  had  entwined  herself  into  his 
inmost  being.  Again  and  again  the  quesdon  presented 
itself  to  his  mind.  "  When  1  go  back  to  Meran,  on  what 
footing  shall  I  stand  with  her?  If  I  find  it  so  hard  to 
run  away  for  four  days,  how  shall  I  ever  run  away  from 
her  for  ever  and  ever  ?  " 

Besides,  during  those  few  happy  weeks  at  Meran,  Lin- 
net had  begun  to  reveal  herself  to  him  as  another  person. 
He  was  catching  faint  glimpses  now  of  the  profounder 
depths  of  that  deeply  artistic,  though  as  yet  almost  wholly 
undeveloped,  character.  The  books  he  had  read  to  her 
she  understood  so  fast ;  the  things  he  had  told  her  she 
caught  at  so  readily ;  the  change  to  new  scenes  seemed  so 
soon  to  quicken  and  stimulate  all  her  btent  faculties.  Had 
not  Nature  said  of  her,  as  of  Wordsworth's  country  lass, 
"  She  shall  be  mine  and  I  will  make  A  lady  of  my  own  "  ? 
For  that  she  was  a  lady  indeed  had  been  forcing  itself 
every  day  more  and  more  plainly  upon  Will's  mind,  as  he 
walked  and  talked  with  her.  At  Innsbruck,  he  had 
thought  more  than  once  to  himself,  "  How  could  one 
dream  in  a  world  where  there  are  women  like  Rue,  of 
tying  oneself  for  life  to  this  sweet-voiced  alp-girl?" 
Among  the  Dolomites,  three  week^  later,  he  asked  him- 
self rather,  "  How  could  one  ever  be  content  with  mere 
brightness  and  sunniness  like  that  charnu'ng  Rue's  in  a 
world  which  hclds  women  so  tender,  so  true,  and  so  pas- 
sionate as  Linnet  .-* " 

Slowly,  bit  by  bit,  he  began  to  wonder  how  he  could 
muster  up  courage  to  tear  himself  away  again — and,  if  he 
did,  for  how  long  he  could  maiMge  to  keep  away  from 
her?  And  then,  as  he  dt'h'^iit^d.  there  arose  in  his  mind 
the  profounder  question  of  justice  or  injustice  to  Linnet. 
Was  it  right  of  him  so  dt'cply  to  engage  her  affections, 
unless  he  meant  by  it  son^K'tJiing  real,  something  sure, 
something  definite?  She  lovH  him  so  well  that  to  leave 
her  now  would  surely  break  her  heart  for  her.  What 
end  could  there  be  to  this  serious  (omplication  save  the 
end  he  had  so  strenuously  denied  to  IU</fiaii? 

On  the  very  last  evening  of  their  drive  through  those 


158 


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'M 


great  bare  unearthly  peaks  that  look  down  upon  Botzen, 
Florian  came  into  V/ill's  room  for  an  evening  gossip. 
They  sat  up  long  uver  the  smoldering  embers  of  a  fra- 
grant pinewood  fire.  There's  nothing  more  confidential 
than  young  men's  confabulations  over  a  smoldering 
hearth  in  the  small  hours  of  the  niorning.  The  two 
friends  talked — and  talked,  and  talked,  and  talked — till  at 
last  Will  was  moved  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  his  feelings 
in  the  matter  to  Florian.  He  put  his  dilemma  neatly.  He 
acknowledged  he  was  going  just  where  Florian  had  said 
he  would  go.  "  I  pointed  out  the  noose  to  you,"  the 
epicurean  philosopher  observed,  with  bland  self-satisfaction, 
"  and  you've  run  your  neck  right  into  it.  Instead  of 
playing  with  her  like  a  dolj  as  a  sensible  man  would 
have  done,  you've  simply  gone  ahead  and  lost  your  heart 
outright  to  her.  Foolish,  fodlish,  exceedingly  foolish ; 
but,  just  what  I  expected  from  you.  I  said  from  the 
very  first,  '  Now  mark  my  words,  Deverill,  as  sure  as  eggs 
is  eggs,  you'll  end  bv  marrying  her.'  " 

"  I  don't  say  I'll  marry  her  now,"  Will  replied,  some- 
what sheepishly.  "How  can  I,  indeed?  I've  got  noth- 
ing to  marry  on.  I  find  it  hard  enough  work  to  keep 
body  and  soul  together  for  myself  in  London,  without 
thinking  of  an  engag^mient  to  keep  somebody  else's  into 
the  bargain." 

"Then  what  do  you  mean  to  do?"  Florian  inquired, 
with  sound  common-sense.  *'  If  you  don't  mean  to  marry 
her,  i>nd  you  don't  mean  to  harm  her,  and  you  can't  go 
away  from  her.  and  you  can't  afford  to  stop  with  her, — 
why,  what  possible  new  term  are  you  going  to  introduce 
into  human  relations  and  the  English  language  to  cover 
your  ways  with  her  ?  " 

"  That's  just  it.  I  don't  know,"  Will  answered,  in  a 
somewhat  hopeless  and  helpless  voice,  piling  the  embers 
together  in  the  center  as  he  spoke,  just  to  keep  them  alight 
for  some  minutes  longer.  "  There's  the  rub.  I  admit  it. 
Nobody  feels  it  more  than  I  do.  But  I  don't  see  any  pos- 
sible kind  of  way  out  of  it.  I've  been  thinking  to  myself 
— or  perhaps  half-thinking — T  mipfht  manage  it  like  this, 
if  Linnet  would  assent  to  it.  We  might  get  married 
first " 

Florian  raised  cne  warning  hand,  and  nodded  his  shape- 


FLORIAN  ON  MATRIMONY 


159 


ly  head  up  and  down  two  or  three  times  solemnly.  "  I 
told  you  so,"  he  interposed,  in  a  tone  of  most  mitigated 
and  mournful  triumph.  "  There  we  get  at  it  at  last. 
You  have  said  the  word.  I  was  sure  'twould  come  to 
that.     Marry,  marry,  marry !  " 

"  And  then."  Will  went  on,  with  a  very  shamefaced  air, 
never  heeding  his  comment,  "  what's  enough  for  one's 
enough  for  two,  they  say — or  very  nearly.  I  thought  we 
might  live  in  lodgings  quite  quietly  for  awhile,  somewhere 
cheap,  in  London " 

"  Not  live/'  Florian  corrected  gravely,  with  another 
sage  nod  of  that  sapient  head  ;  "  lurk,  linger,  vegetate.  A 
very  sad  ei  A  most  dismal  downfall!     I  see  it  all: 

Surrey  side,  tnirty  shillings  a  week ;  cold  mutton  for  din- 
ner ;  bread  and  cheese  for  lunch ;  an  ill-furnished  parlor, 
a  sloppy-faced  slavey !  I  know  the  sort  of  thing.  Pah ! 
My  gorge  rises  at  it !  " 

"  And  then,  I  could  get  Linnet's  voice  trained  and  pre- 
pared for  the  stage,"  Will  continued,  perusing  his  boots, 
"  and  work  very  haril  myself  to  keep  us  both  alive  till  she 
could  come  out  in  public.  In  a  year  or  two,  I  feel  sure, 
if  I  watched  her  close  and  saw  her  capabilities,  I  could 
write  and  compose  some  good  piece  of  my  own  to  suit 
her  exactly.  With  me  to  make  the  songs,  and  Linnet  to 
interpret  them,  I  believe,  sooner  or  later,  we  ought  easily 
to  earn  a  very  good  livelihood.  But  it'd  be  a  hard  pull 
first;  I  don't  conceal  that  from  myself.  We'd  have  a 
struggle  for  life,  though  in  the  end,  I  feel  sure,  we'd  live 
it  down  and  conquer  " 

Florian  lighted  a  cigarette  and  watched  the  thin  blue 
smoke  curl  upward,  languidly.  "  Love's  young  dream !  " 
he  mused  to  himself  with  a  placid  smile  of  superior  wis- 
dom. "  I  know  the  style  of  old.  Bread  and  cheese  and 
kisses !  Very  charming,  very  charming !  Chorus  hy- 
meneal of  the  most  approved  pattern.  So  odd,  so  interest- 
ing! I've  often  asked  myself  what  it  is  in  the  world  that 
leads  otherwise  sensible  and  intelligent  fellows  to  make 
wrecks  of  their  lives  in  this  incredible  way — and  all  for 
the  sake  of  somebody  else's  daughter!  Why  this  insane 
desire  to  relieve  some  other  man  of  his  natural  respon- 
sibilities? I  account  for  it  in  my  own  mind  00  evolu- 
tionary principles.     Marriage,  it  st-enis  to  me,  is  an  ir- 


hr 


1 60 


LINNET 


m 


rational  and  incomprehensible  civilized  instinct,  by  which 
the  individual  sacrifices  himself  on  the  shrine  of  duty  for 
the  benefit  of  the  species.  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the 
lemmings  ?  " 

"  The  lemmings !  "  Will  repeated,  unable  to  conceive 
the  connection  in  Fl«rian's  mind  between  two  such  totally 
dissimilar  and  unrelated  subjects.  "  Not  those  little 
brown  animals  like  rats  or  marmots  they  have  in  Nor- 
way ?  " 

"  Precisely,"  Florian  answered,  waving  his  cigarette 
airily.  "  Those  little  brown  animals  like  rats  or  marmots 
they  have  in  Norway.  You  put  it  like  a  dictionary. 
Well,  every  year  or  two,  you  know,  an  irresistible  desire 
seizes  on  many  myriads  of  those  misguided  rodents  at 
once,  to  march  straight  to  the  sea  in  a  body  together, 
plunge  boldly  into  the  water,  and  swim  out  in  a  straight 
line,  without  rhyme  or  reason,  till  they  can  swim  no 
farther  but  drown  themselves  by  carloads.  What's  the 
origin  of  this  swarmcry?  It's  only  an  instinct  which 
keeps  down  the  nuniber  of  the  lenmiings,  and  so  acts  as 
a  check  against  over-population.  A  beautiful  and  in- 
genious provision  of  Nature  they  call  it!"  and  Florian 
smild  sweetly.  "  I've  always  thought,"  he  went  on, 
puffing  a  contemptuous  ring  of  smoke  from  his  pursed- 
up  lips,  "  that  marriage  among  mankind  was  a  very  simi- 
lar instinct.  It's  death  to  the  individual — mental  and 
moral  death;  but  it  ensure-,  at  least  a  due  continuance  of 
the  sj)ecies.  The  vv'isc  man  doesn't  marry;  he  knows  too 
well  for  that ;  he  stands  by  and  looks  on ;  but  he  leaves 
no  descendants,  and  his  wisdom  dies  with  him.  Where- 
an  the  foolish  burden  themselves  with  a  wife  and  family 
and  Ijecome  thereby  tht  perpetuators  of  their  race  in 
future.  It's  a  wonderful  dispensation;  I  admire  it — at 
a  distance!  " 

"  But  you  said  you'd  marry  yourself,"  Will  objected, 
"if  you  met  the  right  person ;  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
Florian,  1  fancied  you'd  b'  vn  rather  markedly  attentive  to 
Rue  for  the  last  few  weeks  or  so." 

Florian  stroked  a  smooth  small  chin  with  five  meditative 
fingers.  "  That's  quite  another  matter,"  he  answered,  in 
a  self-satisfied  ivne.  **  Circumstances,  it  has  been  well 
remarked  by  an  anonymous  thinker,  alter  cases.    If  an 


FLORIAN  ON  MATRIMONY 


i6] 


tative 
ed,  in 
well 
If  an 


Oriental  potentate  in  all  his  glory  were  to  order  me  to 
flop  down  on  my  marrow-bones  before  him  and  kiss  his 
imperial  foot  as  an  act  of  pure  homage,  I  should  take 
my  proud  stand  as  a  British  subject,  and  promptly  decline 
so  degrading  a  ceremony.  But  if  he  offered  me  a  thou- 
sand :oounds  down  to  comply  with  his  wishes,  I  would 
give  the  polite  request  my  most  earnest  consideration. 
If  he  made  it  ten  thousand,  I  would  almost  certainly  ac- 
cede ;  and  if  he  went  to  half-a-milHon,  which  is  a  fortune 
for  life,  well,  no  gentleman  on  earth  could  dream  of  dis- 
puting the  question  any  further  with  him.  Just  so,  I 
say,  with  marriage.  If  a  lady  desires  me,  without  due 
cause  assigned,  to  become  her  abject  slave,  and  serve  her 
alone  for  a  lifetime,  I  will  politely  but  firmly  answer,  *  No, 
thank  you.'  If  she  confers  upon  me,  incidentally,  a 
modest  competence,  I  shall  perpend  for  a  moment,  and 
murmur,  *  Well,  possibly.'  But  if  she  renders  me  inde- 
pendent and  comfortable  for  life,  with  a  chance  of  sur- 
rounding myself  with  books,  pictures,  music,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation  I  shall  answer,  *  Like  a  bird,'  to  her. 
Slavery,  in  short,  though  in  itself  disagreeable,  may  be 
miti2"ated  or  altogether  outweighed  by  concomitant  ad- 
vantages." 

"  Florian,"  Will  said,  earnestly,  "  I  don't  know  what 
you  mean.  You  speak  a  foreign  language  to  me.  If  I 
felt  like  that,  I  could  never  bring  myself  to  marry  any 
woman.  If  I  married  at  all,  I  must  do  it  for  the  sake  of 
the  girl  I  loved — and  to  make  her  happy." 

Florian  gazed  at  him  compassionately.  "  Quixotic," 
he  answered  low,  shaking  his  sculpturesque  head  once  or 
twice  with  a  face  of  solemn  warning.  "  Quixotic,  ex- 
ceedingly !  The  pure  lemming  instinct ;  they  zvill  rush  in- 
to it !  It's  the  moth  and  the  candle  again :  dazzle,  buzz, 
and  flutter, — and  pom!  pom!  Pom! —  in  a  second  you're 
caught,  and  sizzled  hot  in  the  flame,  and  reduced  to  ashes. 
That's  how  it'll  be  with  you,  my  dear  fellow:  you'll  go 
back  to  Meran  and,  by  Jingo,  to-morrow,  you'll  go 
straight  up  the  hill,  and  ask  the  cow-girl  to  marry  you." 

"  I  think  I  will,"  the  poet  answered,  taking  up  his 
cande-stick  with  a  sigh  to  leave  the  room.  **  I  think  I 
will,  Florian.  I'll  fight  it  out  to  the  bitter  end,  sloppy 
slavey  and  all,  on  your  threatened  south  side,  in  those 


'    ) 


li'V 


162 


LINNET 


dingy  lodgings."  And  he  took  himself  off  with  a  hurried 
nod  to  his  bland  companion. 

Florian  rose,  and  closed  the  door  behind  the  poet,  soft- 
ly. He  had  played  his  cards  well,  remarkably  well,  that 
evening.  If  he  wanted  to  drive  Will  into  proposing  to 
Linnet,  he  had  gone  the  right  way  to  effect  his  object. 
"  And  I,"  he  thought  to  himself  with  a  contented  smile, 
"  will  stand  a  fair  chance  with  Rue,  without  fear  of  a 
rival,  when  once  he's  gone  off  and  got  well  married  to 
his  cow-girl.  It'll  be  interesting  to  ask  them  to  a  nice  lit- 
tle dinner,  from  their  Surrey  side  garret,  at  our  snug 
small  den  in  Park  Lane  or  South  Kensington.  Park 
Lane's  the  most  fashionable,  but  South  Kensington's  the 
pleasantest : 

In  Cromwell  Road  did  Florian  Wood, 
A  stately  pleasure  dome  decree. 

Such  a  palace  of  art  as  it  will  be,  too !  I  can  see  it  now, 
in  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio! — Botticellis,  Delia  Robbias, 
Elzevirs,  Stradivariuses  :  William  Morris  on  the  floor ! 
Lewis  Day  on  the  ceiling !  It  rises  like  an  exhalation,  all 
beautiful  to  behold!  Such  things  might  I  do — with 
Rue's  seven  hundred  thousand !  " 


CHAPTER  XXI 


FORTUNES    WHEEL 


It  was  with  no  little  trepidation  that  Will  mounted  the 
Kiichelberg  on  the  morning  after  his  return  to  Meran 
from  the  Dolomites.  Would  Linnet  be  there,  he  won- 
dered, or  would  he  somehow  miss  her?  He  didn't  know 
why,  but  a  certain  vague  foreboding  of  possible  evil  pos- 
sessed his  soul.  He  was  dimly  conscious  to  himself  of 
danger  ahead.  He  couldn't  feel  reassured  till  he  stood 
once  more  face  to  face  with  Linnet. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  appointed  place,  however,  by 
the  Station  of  the  Cross  which  represented  the  Comfort- 
ing of  the  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  a  cold  shudder  of 
alarm  came  over  him  suddenly.  No  Linnet  there!  Not 
a  sign  of  her  to  be  seen !  And  hitherto  she  had  always 
kept  her  tryst  before  him.  He  took  out  his  watch  and 
looked.  Ha,  a  moment's  respite!  In  his  eagerness,  he 
had  arrived  five  minutes  early.  But  Linnet  was  usually, 
even  so,  five  minutes  ahead  of  him.  He  couldn't  make  it 
out;  this  was  ominous,  very! 

With  heart  standing  still,  he  waited  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
— half-an-hour — three-quarters.  And  still  no  Linnet 
came! — And  still  he  watched  eagerly.  He  paced  up  and 
down,  looking  again  and  again  at  his  watch  with  impa- 
tience. Could  she  have  mistaken  the  place?  Yet  he  told 
her  plain  enough !  On  the  bare  chance  of  some  error,  he 
would  try  the  other  stations.  He  went  to  them  all,  one 
by  one,  from  the  Crown  of  Thorns  to  the  Calvary.  The 
same  luck  still!  No  Linnet  at  any  of  them!  Then  he 
lounted  the  great  boss  of  ice-worn  rock  with  the  bench 
on  its  top,  that  commands  far  and  wide  the  whole  expanse 
of  the  Kiichelberg.  Gazing  down  on  every  side  upon  the 
long,  low  hog's  back,  he  saw  nobody  all  around  save  the 
women  in  the  fields,  watching  their  cows  at  pasture,  and 
the  men  with  the  carts  urging  overtasked  oxen  to  drag  too 
heavy  a  load  up  the  cobble-paved  hill-track. 

i6$ 


t  '  1 


164 


LINNET 


im'' 


Thoroughly  alarmed  by  this  time,  and  uncertain  how  to 
act,  Will  determined  to  take  a  very  bold  measure.  He 
descended  the  hill  once  more,  and,  passing  under  the  arch- 
way of  the  old  town  gate,  and  through  the  narrow  streets, 
and  past  the  high-towered  parish  church,  he  made  his  way 
straight  to  Andreas  Hausberger's  inn  in  the  street  that  is 
called  Unter  den  Lauben.  At  the  doorway,  Franz  Lind- 
ner, all  on  fire,  was  sianding.  Wrath  smoldered  in  his 
face ;  his  hat  was  cocked  fiercely ;  his  feather,  turned  Rob- 
blerwise,  looked  angrier,  more  defiant,  more  aggressive 
than  ever.  But  to  Will's  immense  surprise,  the  village 
champion,  instead  of  scowling  challenge  at  him,  or  reced- 
ing under  the  arch,  stepped  forward  with  outstretched 
palm  to  meet  him.  He  grasped  Will's  hand  hard.  His 
pressure  struck  some  note  of  a  common  misfortune. 

"  You've  com-::  to  look  for  Linnet  ?  "  he  said,  holding 
his  head  very  haughtily.  "  She  wasn't  on  the  hill  ?  She'd 
promised  to  meet  you  there?  Well,  we're  both  in  the 
same  box,  it  seems.  He's  done  two  of  us  at  once.  This 
is  indeed  a  dirty  trick  Andreas  Hausberger  has  played  up- 
on us ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? '  'Will  cried,  aghast,  clapping 
his  hand  to  his  head.  "  Where's  Linnet  ?  I  want  to  see 
her." 

"  You  won't  see  her  ever  again  as  Lina  Telser,  that's 
sure,"  the  Robbler  answered  aloud,  with  an  indignant 
gesture.  His  wrath  against  Andreas  had  wholly  swal- 
lowed up  all  memory  of  his  little  quarrel  on  the  hills  with 
Will  Deverill.  It  was  common  cause  now.  Andreas  had 
outwitted  both  of  them. 

"  You  can't  mean  to  tell  me "  Will  cried,  drawing 

back  in  horror. 

Franz  took  him  up  sharply.  "  Yes ;  I  do  mean  to  tell 
you  just  what  I  say,"  he  answered,  knitting  his  brows. 
"  Andreas  Hausberger  has  gone  off  with  her  ...  to  St. 
Valentin  ...  to  marry  her." 

It  was  a  bolt  from  the  blue — an  unforseen  thunder- 
stroke. Will  raised  his  hat  from  his  brow,  and  held  his 
hand  on  his  stunned  and  astonished  forehead.  "  To  mar- 
ry her ! "  he  repeated,  half-dazed  at  the  bare  thought. 
"  Andreas  Hausberger  to  marry  her  1 — to  marry  Linnet  1 
Oh  no ;  it  can't  be  true  j  i^Vi  never  can  mean  it  I " 


FORTUNE'S  WHEEL 


lbs 


Franz  stared  at  him  doggedly.  "  He  gave  me  the  slip 
on  Wednesday  morning,"  he  answered,  with  a  resounding 
German  oath.  "  He  went  off  quite  secretly.  May  the 
Evil  One  requite  him!  He  knew  if  he  told  me  before- 
hand I'd  have  planted  my  good  knife  to  the  handle  in  his 
heart.  So  he  said  never  a  word,  but  went  off  unexpected- 
ly, with  Linnet  and  Philippina,  leaving  the  rest  of  us  here 
stranded,  but  canceling  all  engagements  for  the  next 
three  evenings.  The  white-livered  cur !  He'll  never  dare 
to  come  back  again !  He  knows  if  I  meet  him  now — it'll 
be  this  in  his  black  heart !  "  And  Franz  tapped  signifi- 
cantly the  short  hunting  knife  that  stuck  out  from  his 
leather  belt  in  true  jdger  fashion. 

"  And  you  haven't  followed  him  ?  "  Will  exclaimed, 
taken  aback  at  the  man's  inaction.  "  You  know  all  this, 
and  you  haven't  gone  after  him  to  prevent  the  wedding!  " 
In  an  emergency  like  the  present  one,  with  Linnet's  happi- 
ness at  stake,  he  was  only  too  ready  to  accept  as  an  ally 
even  the  village  bully. 

Franz  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders.  "  How  could 
I  ?  "  he  asked,  helplessly.  "  Have  I  money  at  command  ? 
Have  I  wealth  like  the  tvirth,  to  pay  my  fare  all  the  way 
from  Meran  to  Jenbach  ?  " 

Will  drew  back  with  a  deep  sigh.  He  had  never 
thought  of  that  difficulty.  It's  so  natural  to  us  all  to  have 
money  in  our  pockets,  or  at  least  at  our  command,  for  any 
great  emergency,  that  we  seldom  realize  how  insuperable 
a  barrier  a  bare  hundred  miles  may  often  seem  to  men  of 
other  classes.  It  was  as  impossible  for  Franz  Lindner  to 
get  from  Meran  to  St.  Valentin  at  a  day's  notice  as  for 
most  of  us  to  buy  the  house  of  Rothschild. 

"  Come  vnth  me!  "  Will  cried,  starting  up.  "  The  man 
has  cheated  us  vilely.  Come  with  me  to  St.  Valentin, 
Herr  Franz — forget  our  differences — and  before  he  has 
time  to  get  through  with  the  legal  formalities,  help  me, 
help  me,  to  prevent  this  nefarious  wedding !  " 

"  It's  too  late  to  preveni  it  now !  "  Franz  answered, 
shaking  his  head,  with  a  settled  gloom  on  his  countenance. 
**  It's  all  over  by  this.  She's  his  wife  already.  They 
were  married  on  Friday." 

At  those  words  Will  felt  his  heart  stand  still  within 
him,    He  gasped  for  breath.    He  steadied  himself  me- 


iBrgi;jj.vM  m..".'.". 


1 66 


LINNET 


chanically.  Never  till  that  moment  had  he  known  how 
much  he  loved  the  Tyrolese  singer-girl,  and  now  the  blow 
had  come,  he  couldn't  even  believe  it.  "  Married  I  "  he 
faltered  out  in  a  broken  voice ;  "  what,  married  already ! 
Linnet  married  to  that  man!  Oh,  impossible!  Impos- 
sible!" 

"  But  it's  true,  all  the  same,"  Franz  answered  sturdily. 
"  Philippina  was  there,  and  she  saw  them  married.  She 
came  back  last  night  to  collect  their  things  and  pack  up 
for  Italy.  She's  to  meet  them  to-morrow  by  the  mid- 
day train,  at  a  place  called  Verona." 

'*  But  how  did  he  do  it  in  the  time  ?  "  Will  exclaimed 
still  incredulous,  and  clinging  still  to  the  last  straw  with 
a  drowning  man's  instinct.  "  Your  Austrian  ^aw  has  so 
many  formalities.  Perhaps  it's  .a  story  the  man  has 
made  up  on  purpose  to  deceive  us.  He  may  have  told 
Philippina,  and  she  may  be  in  league  with  him." 

Franz  shook  his  head  with  gloomy  determination. 
"  No,  no,"  he  said ;  "  it  w  't  do ;  don't  flatter  your  soul 
with  that;  there's  no  doubi  at  all  in  the  world  about  it. 
He's  as  deep  as  a  well,  and  as  false  as  a  fox,  and  he'd  laid 
all  his  plans  very  cunningly  beforehand.  He  made  the 
arrangements  and  swore  to  the  Civil  Act  without  con- 
sulting Linnet.  He  and  the  priest  were  in  league,  and 
the  priest  helped  him  out  with  it.  At  the  very  last 
moment,  Andreas  carried  her  off,  and  before  she  could  say 
nay,  he  went  straight  through  and  married  her." 

Will's  rain  reeled  round ;  his  mind  seemed  to  fail  him. 
The  sense  of  his  loss,  his  irreparable  loss,  deadened  for 
the  moment  every  other  feeling.  Linnet  gone  from  him 
for  ever!  Linnet  married  to  somebody  else! — and  that 
somebody  else  so  cold,  so  calculating,  so  cruel  a  man  as 
Andreas  Hausberger!  It  was  terrible  to  contemplate. 
"  He  must  have  forced  her  to  do  it !  "  the  Englishman 
cried  in  his  distress.  "  But  how  could  she  ever  consent? 
How  could  she  ever  submit  ?  I  can't  believe  it  I  I  can't 
even  understand  it !  " 

"  He  didn't  exactly  force  her,"  Franz  answered,  tilting 
his  hat  still  more  angrily  on  one  side  of  his  head.  "  But 
he  brought  the  Herr  Vicar  from  St.  Valentin  to  persuade 
her ;  and  you  know  what  priests  are,  and  you  know  what 
women!    The  Herr  Vicar  just  turned  on  purgatory  and 


FORTUNE'S  WHEEL 


167 


all  the  rest  of  it  to  frighten  the  poor  child — so  Philippina 
says.  She  was  crying  all  the  time.  Slie  cried  in  the 
train,  and  she  cried  on  the  road,  and  she  cried  in  the 
church,  and  she  cried  at  the  altar !  She  cried  worst  of  all 
when  Herr  Andreas  took  her  home  to  the  IVirtlishaiis  to 
supper.  .  .  .  But  I'll  be  even  with  him  yet."  And  Franz 
tapped  his  knife  once  more.  '*  When  I  meet  him  again — 
ten  thousand  devils ! — this  goes  right  up  to  the  hilt  in  the 
base  black  heart  of  him !  " 

"Can  I  see  Philippina?"  Will  gasped  out,  white  as 
death. 

"  Yes ;  certainly  you  can  see  her,"  the  Robbler  answered 
with  a  burst,  leading  him  in  through  the  dark  archway 
to  the  sunless  courtyard.  "  Come  this  way  into  the  par- 
lor. She's  upstairs  just  now,  but  I'll  bring  her  down  to 
speak  to  you." 

In  a  minute  or  two  more,  sure  enough,  Philippina  ap- 
peared in  her  very  best  dress,  looking  bright  and  smiling. 
She  was  garrulous  as  usual,  and  most  gay  and  lively. 
"  Oh  yes ;  they  had  been  to  St.  Valentin,  and  no  mistake — 
the  Herr  Vicar  going  with  them — no  scandal  of  any  sort 
— and  'twas  a  very  grand  affair;  never  anything  like  it! 
Andreas  Hausberger  had  spared  no  expense  or  trouble ; 
red  wine  at  the  supper,  and  fiddlers  for  the  dance,  and  all 
the  world  of  the  valley  bidden  to  the  feast  on  the  night  of 
the  wedding !  Linnet  had  cried  a  good  deal ;  ach,  yes,  she 
had  cried,  how  she  had  cried — but  cried! — uiein  Gott.  it 
was  wonderful!  But  there,  girls  always  will  cry  when 
they're  going  to  be  married ;  and  you  know,  Herr  Will," 
archly,  "  she  was  very,  very  fond  of  you."  For  herself, 
Philippina  couldn't  think  what  the  child  had  to  cry  about 
— except,  of  course,  what  you  call  her  feelings ;  but  all 
sJie  could  say  was,  she'd  be  very  glad  herself  to  make  such 
a  match  as  Lina  Tclser  was  making.  Why,  w  ould  the 
}^nadigc  Herr  believe  it?  Herr  Andreas  was  going  to 
take  her  to  a  place  called  Mailand,  away  off  in  Italy,  to 
train  her  for  the  stage — the  operatic  stage — and  make  in 
the  end  a  real  grand  lady  of  her ! 

Will  sat  down  on  a  wooden  chair  by  the  rough  little 
table,  held  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  listened  all  aghast 
to  Philippina's  artless  outpourings.  The  sennerin,  un- 
heedinj^  his  obvious  distress,  went  on  to  describe  in  her 


IM 


i68 


LINNET 


most  glowing  terms  the  magnificence  of  the  wedding,  and 
of  the  wirth's  entertainment.  St.  Valentin  hardly  knew 
itself.  Andreas  had  had  a  wedding-dress,  oh,  a  beautiful 
wedding-dress,  made  beforehand,  as  a  surprise,  at  Meran 
for  Linnet — a  white  silk  wedding-dress  from  a  Vienna 
clothes-maker's  on  the  Promenade,  by  the  Stephanie  Gar- 
ten ;  it  was  cut  to  measure  from  an  old  bodice  of  Linnet's, 
which  he  abstraced  all  unknown  from  her  box  on  pur- 
pose; and  it  fitted  her  like  a  glove,  and  she  was  ever  so 
much  admired  in  it.  And  all  the  young  men  thought 
Andreas  the  luckiest  dog  in  the  whole  Tyrol ;  and  cousin 
Fridolin  had  almost  wanted  to  fight  him  for  his  bride ;  but 
Linnet  intervened,  and  wouldn't  let  them  have  it  out  for 
her.  "  And  on  the  morning  after  the  marriage,"  Philip- 
pina  concluded,  with  wide  open  eyes,  "  there  wasn't  a 
cradle  at  the  door,  though  Linnet  was  a  sennerin — not  one 
single  cradle." 

"  Of  course  not !  "  Franz  Lindner  cried,  bridling  up  at 
the  bare  suggestion,  and  frowning  native  wrath  at  her. 

"  But  perhaps  if  you'd  been  there,  Franz "  Philip- 

pina  put  in  saucily,  and  then  broke  off  short,  like  a  discreet 
maiden. 

The  Robbler  rose  above  himself  in  his  generous  indig- 
nation that  anyone  should  dare  even  to  hint  such  things 
about  their  peerless  Linnet.  He  clinched  his  fist  hard. 
"  If  a  man  had  said  that,  my  girl,"  he  cried,  fingering  his 
knife  involuntarily,  "  though  she's  Andreas  Hausberger's 
wife,  he'd  have  paid  with  his  blood  for  it." 

Philippina  for  a  moment  stood  silent  and  overawed. 
Then,  recovering  herself  at  once,  with  a  sudden  little  recol- 
lection, she  thrust  her  hand  into  her  bosom  and  drew  out 
a  small  note,  which  she  passed  to  Will  openly.  "  Oh,  I 
forgot,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  I  was  to  give  you  this,  Herr 
Will.  Linnet  asked  me  to  take  it  to  you  on  the  morning 
of  her  marriage." 

Will  opened  it,  and  read.  It  was  written  in  a  shaky 
round  hand  like  a  servant's,  and  its  German  orthography 
was  not  wholly  above  criticism.  But  it  went  to  Will's 
heart  like  a  dagger  for  all  that. 

"  Dear  Herr  Will,"  it  began,  simply,  "  I  write  to  you 
to-night,  the  last  night  that  I  may,  on  the  eve  of  my  wed- 
ding; for  to-morrow  I  may  not.    When  Andrezis  ^sk^d 


FORTUNE'S  WHEEL 


169 


me  first,  it  seemed  to  me  impossible.  But  the  Herr  Vicar 
told  me  it  was  sin  to  love  a  heretic ;  you  did  not  mean  to 
marry  me,  and  if  you  did,  you  would  drag  my  soul  down 
to  eternal  perdition.  And  then,  the  good  Mother,  and 
the  dear  Father  in  purgatory!  So  between  them  they 
made  me  do  it,  and  I  dared  not  refuse.  It  is  hard  to  re- 
fuse when  one's  priest  commands  one.  Yet,  dear  Herr 
Will,  I  loved  you ;  ah,  hozv  I  loved  you !  and  I  know  it 
is  sin;  but,  may  Our  Dear  Frau  forgive  me,  as  long  as 
I  live,  I  shall  always  love  you !  Though  I  never  must  see 
you  again. — Your  heart-broken  Linnet.^' 

Will  folded  it  reverently,  and  slipped  it  into  the  pocket 
just  over  his  heart.  "  And  tell  her,  Philippina,"  he  said, 
"  when  you  see  her  at  Verona  I  had  come  back  to-day  to 
ask  her  to  marry  me." 


his 


fill's 


CHAPTER  XXII 


A  WOMAN  S   STRATAGEM 


■# 

m 

W^^mJ^ 

For  thi  next  three  years,  Will  heard  and  saw  nothing 
more  of  Linnet.  Not  that  he  failed  to  make  indirect  in- 
quiries, as  time  went  on,  from  every  likely  source,  as  to 
her  passing  whereabouts ;  once  Linnet  was  lost  to  him,  he 
realized  to  himself  how  deeply  he  had  loveci  her,  how 
much  he  had  admired  her.  But,  for  her  happiness'  sake, 
he  felt  it  would  be  wrong  of  him  to  write  to  her  direct, 
or  attempt  in  any  way  to  put  himself  into  personal  com- 
munication with  her.  She  was  Andreas  Hausberger's 
wife  now,  and  there  he  must  leave  her.  He  knew  him- 
self too  well,  he  knew  Linnet  too  well,  too,  to  cheat  him- 
self with  false  ideas  of  mere  friendship  in  future.  A 
woman  with  so  passionate  a  nature  as  hers,  married 
against  her  will  to  a  man  she  could  never  love,  and  meet- 
ing' once  more  the  man  whom  Siie  loved,  the  man  who 
really  loved  her,  must  find  such  friendship  a  dangerous 
pitfall.  So,  for  the  very  love's  sake  he  bore  her,  he  re- 
frained from  attempting  to  communicate  with  her  direct- 
ly ;  and  all  indirect  inquiries  failed  to  elicit  anything  more 
than  the  bare  fact,  already  known  to  him,  that  Linnet  was 
being  musicallv  educated  for  the  stage,  in  Germany  and 
Italy. 

Three  years,  however,  must  be  got  through  somehow, 
no  matter  how  drearily ;  and  during  those  next  three  years 
many  things  of  many  sorts  happened  to  Will  Deverill.  To 
begin  with,  he  was  steadily  growing  in  name  and  fame, 
in  the  stage-world  of  London,  as  a  composer  and  play- 
wright. That  was  mainly  Rue's  doing;  for  Rue,  having 
once  taken  her  Englishman  up,  was  by  no  means  disposed 
to  lay  him  down  again  easily.  Not  twice  in  her  life,  in- 
deed, does  even  a  pretty  American  with  money  at  her 
back  stand  her  solid  chance  of  booming  a  poet.  And  Rue 
boomed  Will  steadily,  after  the  manner  of  her  country- 

170 


A  WOMAN'S   STRATAGEM 


171 


men.  It  didn't  escape  her  quick  womanly  eye,  indeed, 
that  Linnet's  sudden  marriage  and  hasty  flight  to  Italy 
had  produced  a  deep  effect  on  Will's  spirits  for  the 
moment.  But  it  was  only  for  the  moment,  she  hoped  and 
believed — a  mere  passing  whim,  a  poet's  fancy  ;  impossible 
that  a  man  who  thought  and  wrote  like  Will  Devcrill — a 
bard  of  lofty  aim  and  exquisite  imaginings,  one  who  on 
honey-dew  had  fed  and  drunk  tlie  milk  of  Paradise — 
should  be  permanently  enslaved  by  a  Tyrolese  cow-girl. 
Surely,  in  the  end,  common-sense  and  good  taste  and 
right  feeling  must  prevail ;  he  must  come  back  at  last — 
well — to  a  woman  worthv  of  him ! 

So,  very  shortly  after  Will's  return  to  London,  Rue  de- 
cided on  a  complete  change  in  her  'plans  for  the  winter, 
and  made  up  her  mind,  instead  of  going  on  as  she  had  in- 
tended to  Rome  and  Naples,  to  take  a  house  for  the 
WH^on  in  Mayfair  or  South  Kensington.  But  Florian 
would  hear  of  no  such  temporary  expedients ;  she  must 
have  a  home  of  her  own  in  London,  he  said, — in  the 
world's  metrop'~as, — and  he  himself  would  choose  it  for 
her.  So  he  found  her  a  shelter  in  Hans  Place,  Chelsea, 
and  fitted  it  up  beforehand  with  becoming  magnificence — 
just  such  a  palace  of  art  as  he  had  dreamed  of  among  the 
Dolomites;  though,  to  be  sure,  his  own  chance  of  inhabit- 
ing it  now  seemed  considerably  lessened,  since  the  failure 
of  his  scheme  for  putting  off  Will  Dcverill  on  his  musical 
scnncrin.  Still,  Florian  furnished  it,  all  the  same,  with  a 
strictly  business  eye  to  his  own  tastes  and  fancies — in  case 
of  contingencies.  There  was  a  drawing-room  for  Rue, 
of  course  quite  utterly  Hellenic ;  there  was  a  dining-room 
for  Society,  not  grim  and  gloomy,  after  the  common 
superstition  of  all  British  dining-rooms,  but  gay  and 
bright  and  airy,  like  Florian  himself:  for  Florian  held 
that  the  cult  of  the  sacred  dinner  bell,  though  important 
enough  in  the  wise  man's  scheme  of  life,  should  be  a 
blithe  and  joyous,  not  a  solemn  and  stolid  one;  there  was 
a  smoking-room,  for  which  Rue  herself  had  certainly  no 
need,  but  which  Florian  insisted  might  be  useful  in  the 
future,  as  events  demanded.  "  For,  you  see,"  he  said, 
pointedly.  "  we're  not  in  Bombay.  You  may  yet  choose 
a  new  friend  to  light  his  cigars  in  it."  All  was  decorated 
throughout  in  the  most  modern  taste;  incandescent  wires 


i  ' 

m 


[i: 


172 


LINNET 


ipli|: 


shed  tempered  beams  through  Venetian  glass  globes  on 
Liberty  brocades  and  Morris  wall-papers.  'Twas  a 
triumph  of  ornamental  art  on  a  very  small  scale — an  Alad- 
din's palace  in  Hans  Place, — and  Florian  took  good  care 
that  paragraphs  should  get  into  the  Society  papers,  both 
describing  the  house,  and  attributing  its  glories  to  his 
own  superintendence. 

However,  he  took  good  care,  too,  that  due  prominence 
should  be  given  on  every  hand  to  Rue's  own  personal 
claims  to  social  distinction.  He  was  a  first-rate  wire- 
puller. Little  notes  about  the  beauty,  the  wealth,  the 
cleverness,  and  the  fine  taste  of  the  pretty  American  wi- 
dow cropped  up  spasmodically  in  Truth  and  the  Pall  Mall. 
Even  the  Spectator  itself,  that  high-and-dry  organ  of  in- 
tellectual life,  deigned  to  recognize  her  existence.  It  was 
Florian's  intention,  in  short,  to  float  his  new  protegee. 
Now,  all  the  world  admitted  that  Florian,  if  he  chose, 
could  float  almost  anybody ;  while  Rue,  for  her  part,  was 
without  doubt  exceptionally  easy  of  flotation.  Seven 
hundred  thousand  pounds,  to  say  the  truth,  would  have 
buoyed  up  a  far  heavier  social  subject  than  the  pretty  and 
clever  New  Yorker.  Americans  are  the  fashion ;  for  a 
woman,  at  least,  the  mere  fact  that  she  comes  from  beyond 
the  mill-pond  is  in  itself  just  at  present  a  passport  to  the 
best  society.  But  Rue  had  also  money;  and  money  in 
these  days  will  admit  anyone  anywhere.  Furthermore, 
she  had  good  looks,  taking  manners,  much  culture,  real 
cleverness.  She  was  well  informed  and  well  read ;  So- 
ciety itself,  that  collective  critic,  could  find  nothing  to 
criticize  or  to  carp  at  in  her  conversations.  So,  in- 
troduced by  Florian  on  one  side,  and  His  Excellency  the 
American  Minister  on  the  other.  Rue  made  that  spring  a 
perfect  triumphal  progress  through  the  London  drawing- 
rooms.  She  was  the  fact  of  the  season ;  she  entertained 
in  her  own  pretty  rooms  in  Hans  Place,  where  Florian 
exhibited  his  decorative  skill  with  bland  satisfaction  to 
dowager-marchionesses, — "  I  edited  it,"  was  his  pet 
phrase — while  Will  Deverill  hung  modestly  in  the  back- 
ground by  the  door,  talking,  as  was  his  wont,  to  those 
neglected  souls  who  seemed  to  him  most  in  need  of  en- 
couragement and  companionship. 

Before  two  months  were  out,  everybody  was  talking 


A  WOMAN'S   STRATAGEM 


>73 


of  Rue  as  "  our  new  acquisition."  It  was  Mrs.  Palmer 
this,  and  Mrs.  Palmer  that.  *'  We  understand  Mrs.  Pal- 
mer will  not  be  present  at  the  Duchess  of  Thingumbob's 
dance  on  Tuesday."  "  Among  the  guests  on  the  Terrace, 
we  noticed  Lord  So-and-so,  Lady  What's-her-name  of 
Ware,  and  Mrs.  Palmer  of  New  York,  whose  pretty  house 
in  Hans  Place  is  fast  becoming  a  rallying  point  for  all 
that  is  most  interesting  in  London  Society."  (31d  Miss 
Beard,  indeed,  when  she  arrived  at  the  Langham  Hotel 
early  in  May,  and  found  Rue  in  quiet  possession  of  the 
Very  Best  Houses,  was  positively  scandalized.  She  de- 
clared, with  a  little  sneer,  it  was  perfectly  disgraceful  the 
way  That  Woman  had  forced  herself  In'  inire  brass  on 
the  English  Aristocracy.  The  widow  of  a  dry-goodsman 
to  give  herself  such  airs ! — but  there.  Miss  Beard  had  be- 
gun to  despair  before  now  of  the  future  of  Europe !  The 
Nobility  and  Gentry  of  England  had  dcgringolated.  For 
true  blue  blood,  she  was  perfectly  convinced,  you  could 
only  look  nowadays  to  the  heirs  of  the  Puritans,  the 
Knickerbockers,  and  the  Virginians. 

The  very  first  use  Rue  made  of  her  new-found  friends 
and  position  in  London  was  to  push  Will  Devcrill's 
claims  with  theatrical  managers.  Will  had  sent  the 
manuscript  score  of  his  pretty  little  open-air  operetta, 
*■  Honeysuckle,"  to  Wildon  Blades  of  the  Duke  of  Edin- 
burgh's Theater.  And,  before  Mr.  Blades  had  had  time 
to  consider  the  work  submitted  to  him  backed  up  as  it 
was  by  Florian  Wood's  powerful  recommendation.  Rue's 
new  victoria  drew  up  one  day  at  the  door  of  the  manager's 
house  in  St.  John's  Wood,  and  Rue  herself,  in  her  most 
becoming  and  bewitching  costume,  stepped  out,  with  her 
blameless  footman's  aid,  to  interview  him. 

The  pretty  little  American  looked  prettier  and  more 
charming  than  ever  that  morning.  A  dainty  blush  rose 
readily  to  her  peach-blossom  cheeks ;  her  eyes  were  cast 
down ;  an  unwonted  tinge  of  flutter  in  voice  and  manner 
became  her  even  better  than  her  accustomed  serenity.  Mr. 
Blades  bowed  and  smiled  as  he  scanned  her  card ;  he 
was  a  bullet-headed  man  with  shifty  grey  eyes,  a  dubious 
mouth,  and  a  sledge-hammer  manner.  He  knew  her 
name  well;  Florian  had  already  sung  the  American's 
praises  to  the  astute  manager.    They  sat  down  and  talked. 


174 


LINNET 


With  many  indirect  little  feminine  twists  and  turns,  "Rue 
gradually  got  round  to  the  real  subject  of  her  visit.  She 
didn't  approach  't  straight,  of  course — what  woman  ever 
does? — by  stray  hints  and  roundabout  roads  she  let  Mr. 
Blades  understand  in  dim  outline  she  was  to  some  extent 
interested — platonically  interested — in  the  success  of  Will 
Deverill's  Tyrolese  operetta.  Mr,  Deverill,  she  explained, 
was  merely  a  young  poet  of  musical  tastes,  whom  she  had 
met  last  year  at  an  hotel  in  the  Tyrol — a  friend  of  their 
mutual  friend's,  Mr.  Wood,  The  manager  smiled  wisely 
with  that  dubious  mouth.  Rue  saw  he  drew  his  own  in- 
ference— and  drew  it  wrong;  he  thought  it  was  Florian 
in  whom  her  interest  centered,  not  the  unknown  poet. 
Indeed,  Florian  himself  had  done  his  very  best  already  to 
produce  that  impression ;  if  you  want  to  marry  a  rich  wo- 
man, it's  not  a  bad  plan  to  let  her  friends  and  the  world 
at  large  believe  the  matter's  as  good  as  settled  already 
between  you.  So  the  manager  smiled,  and  looked  in- 
tensely wise,  "  Anything  I  can  do  for  ?.ny  friend  of  our 
friend  Florian's,"  he  said,  politely,  "  I'm  sure  will  give 
me  the  very  greatest  pleasure." 

Rue  was  not  wholly  unwilling  he  should  make  this  mis- 
take ;  she  could  ask  the  more  easily  the  favor  she  had  to 
beg  on  behalf  of  Will  Deverill.  With  many  further  cir- 
cumlocutions, and  many  womanly  wiles,  she  gradually  let 
the  bullet-headed  manager  ^e  she  was  very  anxious 
"  Honeysuckle  "  should  be  i;uiy  produced  at  an  early  date 
at  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh's.  But  Mr.  Blades,  for  his 
part,  like  a  man  of  the  world  that  he  was,  was  proof 
against  all  the  smiles  and  blandishments  of  the  pretty  en- 
chantress. A  beautiful  woman  is  thrown  away,  to  say 
the  truth,  upon  a  theatrical  manager;  they  are  his  stock- 
in-trade  ;  he's  accustomed  to  bargaining  with  them,  bully- 
ing them,  quarreling  with  them.  He  regards  them  mere- 
ly as  a  class  of  exceptionally  exacting  and  irritating  per- 
sons, who  presume  upon  their  good  looks  and  their  popu- 
larity with  the  public  to  excuse  the  infinite  trouble  and 
annoyance  they  give  in  their  business  relations.  So  Mr, 
Blades  smiled  again,  this  time  a  hard  little  mercantile 
smile,  as  of  a  man  unimpressed,  and  answered  briefly,  in 
his  sledge-hammer  style,  "Now,  let's  be  f' vii-  \vl*^h  one 
another,  at  once,  Mrs.  Palmer.     I  run  vhi.s  (hcacer.  not 


A  WOMAN'S  STRATAGEM 


17s 


for  the  sake  of  hi^'h  nrt,  nor  to  oblige  a  lady,  Imt  on  the 
vulgarest  and  ronitn(jnest  commercial  grounds — just  to 
make  my  living,  and  get  a  fair  percenlnge  on  the  capital  I 
invest  in  it.  1  judge  by  returns,  not  by  literary  merit  or 
artistic  value.  If  Air.  Deverill's  little  piece  seems  likely 
to  pav — why,  of  course.  I'll  produce  it.  If  it  don't,  why, 
1  won't.     That's  the  long  and  the  short  of  it!  "• 

Rue  seized  h.er  cue  at  once  with  American  quickness. 
"  Just  so,"  she  replied,  catching  him  up  very  sharp,  and 
going  straight  to  the  point ;  "  that's  exactly  why  I've  come 
here.  I  want  }'ou  to  read  this  play  very  soon,  and  to  say 
as  a  candid  business  man  what  you  think  of  it.  Then  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  what  you'll  take,  money  down,  to  pro- 
duce it  at  once,  and  to  run  it  on  your  boards  till  you  see 
whether  it's  likely  to  succeed  or  fail — if  I  give  you  a  guar- 
antee, secured  against  bonds,  to  reimburse  you  in  full  for 
any  loss  you  may  sustain,  say,  by  giving  it  the  chance  of 
a  fortnight's  production." 

It  was  a  curious  offer.  The  manager's  shifty  grey 
eyes  ran  her  over  with  a  sharp  little  stare  of  astonishment. 
Her  directness  amused  him.  "  Well  now,"  he  said, 
"  that's  odd  ;  but  it's  business-like — for  a  woman." 

"  You  understand,"  Rue  said,  blushing  crimson,  and 
letting  her  eyelids  drop  once  more,  "  1  make  this  sug- 
gestion in  strict  confidence ;  I  don't  want  it  talked  about." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  Mr.  Blades  replied,  with  a 
scrutinizing  glance.  "  Not  even  to  our  friend  Florian  ?  " 
And  he  eyed  her  quizzingly. 

Rue's  face  flushed  deeper  still.  **  Above  all,  not  to 
him,"  she  answered  firmly,  "  But  what  do  you  say  to  my 
offer?  Is  it  business  or  not?  Does  it  seem  to  you  pos- 
sible ?  " 

The  manager  hesitated,  and  drummed  with  his  finger 
on  the  desk  before  him.  "  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my 
dear  lady,"  he  answered,  evasively,  "  I  couldn't  very  well 
give  you  any  opinion,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  till  I've 
read  the  manuscript,  and  considered  it  carefully.  You 
see,  a  play's  not  quite  like  a  book  or  picture ;  a  deal  of 
capital's  involved  in  its  production ;  and,  besides,  its  suc- 
cess or  its  failure  don't  stand  quite  alone ;  they  mean  so 
much  in  the  end  to  the  theD*^**  It  won't  do  for  me  to 
reckon  only  how  rauny  hundreas  or  thoubands  I  may  pos- 


p^i 


176 


LINNET 


sibly  lose  on  this  or  that  particular  v  iture  if  it  turns  out 
badly;  there's  the  indirect  loss  as  wcJ  to  take  into  con- 
sideration. Every  success  in  a  house  means  success  in 
future ;  every  failure  in  a  house  means  gradual  increase  in 
the  public  coldness.  It  wouldn't  pay  me,  you  understand, 
if  you  were  merely  to  offer  me  a  big  lump  sum  down  to 
produce  a  piece  with  no  chance  of  a  run  in  it.  I  never 
produce  anything  for  anybody  on  earth  unless  I  believe 
myself  there's  really  money  in  it.  But  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'll  do."  and  he  brightened  up  most  amiably ;  "  I'll  read  it 
this  very  day;  and  then,  if  I  think  it  won't  prejudice  the 
Duke's  to  bring  it  out  at  once,  why,  .  .  .  I'll  consider 
whether  or  not  I  can  accept  your  offer." 

"  Oh.  thank  you !  "  Rue  cried,  very  gratefiilly  indeed ; 
for  she  was  a  simple  soul,  in  spite  of  her  thousands. 

The  manager  drew  himself  up  and  looked  stonily 
grave.  He  shook  his  bullet-head.  This  charge  was  most 
painful.  It  hurt  his  feelings  as  a  business  man  that  a 
pretty  woman  should  even  for  one  moment  suppose  he 
meant  to  make  a  concession  to  her. 

"  You've  nothing  to  thank  me  for,"  he  answered,  truth- 
fully ;  and  indeed  she  hadn't ;  for  his  answer,  after  all, 
amounted  merely  to  this :  that  if  he  thought  the  play  likely 
to  prove  a  success,  he  would  generously  permit  the  rich 
American  to  indemnify  him  beforehand  against  the  off- 
chance  of  a  failure.  In  other  words  if  it  turned  out  well, 
he  stood  to  win  all ;  while  if  it  turned  out  ill,  it  was  Rue 
who  stood  to  lose  whatever  was  lost  upon  it. 

Nevertheless,  after  a  few  more  preliminary  arrange- 
ments. Rue  drove  off,  not^  ill-satisfied  with  her  partial  suc- 
cess, leaving  behind  her  many  injunctions  of  profoundest 
secrecy  with  the  blandly-smiling  manager.  As  she  dis- 
appeared down  the  road,  Mr.  Blades  chuckled  inwardly. 
Was  he  likely  to  tell  any  one  else  in  the  world,  indeed,  that 
he  had  even  entertained  so  unequal  a  bargain  ?  He  would 
keep  to  himself  his  own  clever  compact  with  the  American 
heiress.  But  two  days  later,  Rue's  heart  was  made  glad, 
when  she  came  down  to  breakfast,  by  a  letter  from  the 
manager,  couched  in  politest  terms,  informing  her  that  he 
had  read  Mr.  Deverill's  manuscript;  that  he  thought  on 
the  whole  there  was  possibly  money  in  it;  and  that  he 
would  be  pleased  to  talk  over  the  question  of  its  produc- 


A  WOMAN'S   STRATAGEM 


^n 


tion  on  the  basis  of  the  arrangement  she  had  herself  pro- 
posed at  their  recent  interview.     Rue  read  it,  overjoyed. 
In  the  innocence  of  her  heart,  she  agreed  to  promise  what- 
ever the  astute  Mr.  Blades  demanded.     Moreover,  this 
being  a  strictly  confidential  matter,  she  couldn't  even  sub- 
mit it  to  her  lawyer  for  advice ;  she  was  obliged  to  act  for 
once  on  her  own  initiative.     She  longed  to  rush  off  the 
very  moment  it  was  settled  and  tell  Will  the  good  news ; 
but  prudence  and  womanly  reserve  prevented  her.     How- 
ever, she  had  her  reward  none  the  less  next  day,  when 
Will  hurried  round  immediately  after  breakfast  to  an- 
nounce the  splendid  tidings  which  had  come  by  that  morn- 
ing's post,  that  Blades  had  accepted  "  Honeysuckle,"  with- 
out any  reserve,  and  intended  to  put  it  in  rehearsal  forth- 
with at  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh's,     His  face  beamed  with 
delight ;  Rue  smiled  contentment.     She  was  pleased  he 
should  burst  in  upon  her  first  of  all  the  world  in  London 
with  news  of  his  good  fortune ;  that  really  looked  as  if  he 
rather  liked  her !     And  then,  how  sweet  it  was  to  feel  she 
had  managed  it  all  herself,  and  he  didn't  know  it.     It  was 
such  a  delightful  secret  that,  womanlike,  she  longed  to 
tell  it  to  him  outright — only  that,  of  course,  to  divulge  it 
would  be  to  spoil  the  whole  point  of  it.     So  she  merely 
smiled  a  tranquil  smile,  to  her  own  proud  heart,  and  felt 
as  happy  as  a  queen  about  I^.     'Tis  delicious  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  man  you  love,  and  to  know  he  doesn't  even 
suspect  you  of  doing  it.  .  .  .     Some  day,  perhaps,  she 
would  be  able  to  tell  him.     But  not  till  he'd  made  a  great 
name  for  himself.     Then  she  might  say  to  him  with  pride, 
at  some  tender  moment.     "  Before  the  world  found  you 
out,  Will,  I  knew  what  you  were,  and,  all  unknown  to 
yourself,  it  was  I  who  stretched  out  the  first  helping  hand 
to  your  fortunes !  " 


It 
p.' 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


A  PROPHET  indeed! 


While  Will  Deverill's  operetta  was  still  in  rehearsal  at 
the  Duke  of  Edinburgh's,  a  little  episode  occurred  at  Rue's 
house  in  Hans  Place,  which  was  not  without  a  certain 
weird  influence  of  its  own  on  the  after-life  of  herself  and 
her  companions. 

Rue  gave  an  At  Home  one  night  early  in  March,  to 
which  Florian  and  Will  Deverill  were  invited.  Will 
brought  his  sister  with  him — the  sister  who  was  married 
to  an  East  End  curate,  and  who  had  called  upon  Rue  at 
her  brother's  bidding. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her  to-night,  Maud  ? " 
Will  asked  a  little  anxiously  as  they  stood  alone  for  a 
minute  or  two  in  the  middle  of  the  evening. 

Mrs.  Sartoris  curled  her  lip.  "  Oh,  she's  pretty 
enough,"  she  answered ;  "  pretty  enough,  after  her  fash- 
ion. I  could  see  that  the  first  time ;  and  she's  got  nice 
manners.  She  lights  up  well,  too ;  women  of  her  age  al- 
ways do  light  up  well.  They  look  better  by  night,  even 
in  the  searching  glare  of  these  electric  lamps,  than  in  full 
broad  sunshine.  But,  of  course,  she  hasn't  got  quite  the 
tone  of  our  set;  you  couldn't  expect  it.  A  faded  air  of 
drapery  clings  about  her  to  the  end.  That's  the  way  witli 
these  people;  they  may  be  ever  so  rich,  they  may  be  ever 
so  fascinating — but  a  discriminating  nose  still  scents  trade 
in  them  somewhere." 

Will  smiled  a  quiet  smile  of  suppressed  amusement. 
He  didn't  care  to  answer  her.  Rue's  father,  he  knew, 
had  been  an  episcopal  clergyman  in  New  York,  and  she 
herself,  though  she  married  a  dry-goodsman,  had  been 
every  bit  as  well  bi ought  up  as  Will  and  his  sister.  But 
*tis  a  sisterly  way  to  say  these  disparaging  things  about 
women  whom  one's  brother  might  be  suspected  of  marry- 
ing.    Will  didn't  mean  to  marry  Rue,  it  is  true ;  but  ^laud 

178 


A  PROPHET  INDEED ! 


179 


thought  he  might;  and  that  idea  alone  was  more  than 
enough  to  give  a  caustic  tone  to  her  critical  comments. 

The  feature  of  the  evening,  it  seemed,  was  to  be  a  pe- 
culiar seance  of  a  new  American  phenomenon,  who  had 
come  over  to  Europe  with  a  wonderful  reputation  for 
thought-reading,  hypnotism,  and  what  he  was  pleased  to 
style  "  magnetic  influences."  Like  most  of  her  country- 
men and  countrywomen,  Rue  had  a  sneaking  regard,  in 
the  background  of  her  soul,  for  mesmerism,  spiritualism, 
psychic  force,  electrobiology,  and  the  occult  and  myster- 
ious in  human  nature  generally.  She  was  one  of  those 
impressionable  women,  in  short,  who  fall  a  ready  prey  to 
plausible  impostors  with  voluble  talk  about  ethereal  vi- 
brations, telepathic  energy,  the  odic  fluid,  and  the  rest 
of  such  rubbish,  unless  strong-minded  male  friends  in- 
tervene to  prevent  them.  The  medium  oti  this  occasion, 
it  appeared,  was  one  Joaquin  Holmes,  otherwise  known  as 
the  Colorado  Seer,  who  professed  to  read  the  inmost 
thoughts  of  man  or  woman  by  direct  brainwaves,  without 
contact  of  any  sort.  The  guests  that  night  had  been 
specially  invited  to  meet  Mr.  Holmes  on  this  his  first  ap- 
pearance at  a  seance  in  London ;  so  about  ten  o'clock,  all 
the  world  trooped  down  to  the  dining-room,  which  Flo- 
rian  had  cunningly  arranged  as  a  temporary  lecture-hall, 
with  seats  in  long  rows,  and  an  elevated  platform  at  one 
end  for  the  medium. 

"  What  an  odd-looking  man  !  "  Mrs.  Sartoris  exclaimed, 
as  the  Colorado  Seer,  in  full  evening  diess,  bowed  a  grace- 
ful bow  from  his  i)lnco  cm  tin-  plalforni  "He's  hand- 
some, though,  isn  t  lie?  Such  wondtiful  eyes!  Juss 
look !     And  such  a  Spanish  complexion !  ' 

"  A  HidalgOj  every  inch !  "  Florian  assented  gravely, 
nodding  his  head,  and  looking  at  him  as  he  would  have 
looked  at  a  Velasquez.  "  That  olivc-1)rown  skin  points 
back  straight  to  Andalusia.  It  doesn't  want  his  name  to 
tell  one  at  a  glance  that  if  his  father  was  an  American  of 
English  descent,  his  mother's  folk  must  have  emigrated 
from  Cordova  or  Granada.  I  see  a  Moslem  tinge  in  cheek 
and  eye ;  those  dusky  thin  fingers  are  the  Moor  all  over !  " 

"  For  Moor,  read  blackamoor,"  Colonel  Quackenboss, 
the  military  attache  to  the  American  Legation,  murmured 
half  under  his  breath  to  his  next-door  neighbor. 


i8o 


LINNET 


And  they  were  each  of  them  right,  in  his  own  way  and 
fashion.  The  Colorado  Seer  was  a  very  handsome  man, 
somewhat  swarthier  than  is  usual  with  pure-blooded 
Europeans.  His  eyes  were  large  and  dark  and  brilliant ; 
his  abundant  black  hair  fell  loose  over  his  brow  with  a 
graceful  southern  curl ;  a  heavy  moustache  fringed  his 
upper  lip ;  he  looked  to  the  unsophisticated  European  eye 
like  a  pleasing  cross  between  Buffalo  Bill  and  a  Castilian 
poet.  But  his  Christian  name  of  Joaquin  and  his  south- 
ern skin  had  descended  to  him,  not  from  Andalusian 
Hidalgos,  but  from  a  mother  who  was  partly  Spanish 
and  partly  negress,  with  a  delicate  under-current  of  Red 
Indian  ancestry.  As  he  stood  there  on  the  platform,  how- 
ever, in  his  becoming  evening  dress,  and  flooded  them 
with  the  light  of  his  lustrous  dark  eyes — 'twas  a  trick  of 
the  trade  he  had  learned  in  Colorado — every  woman  in 
the  room  felt  instinctively  to  herself  he  was  a  superb 
creature,  while  every  man  admitted  with  a  grudging  smile 
that  the  fellow  had  at  least  the  outward  air  of  a  gentle- 
man. 

The  Seer,  stepping  forward  with  a  genial  smile,  enter- 
tained them  at  first  with  some  common  little  tricks  of  so- 
called  thought-reading,  familiar  enough  to  all  those  who 
have  ever  attempted  to  watch  the  ways  of  that  simple 
exhibition.  He  found  pins  concealed  in  ladies'  skirts,  and 
guessed  the  numbers  of  bank-notes  in  financiers'  pockets. 
Florian's  mouth  curled  incredulity;  why,  these  were  just 
the  same  futile  old  games  as  ever,  the  well-known  and  in- 
nocent little  conjuring  dodges  of  the  Bishops  and  the 
Stuart  Cumberlands!  But  after  awhile,  Mr.  Joaquin 
Holmes,  waking  up  all  at  once,  proceeded  to  try  some- 
thing newer  and  more  original.  A  pack  of  cards  was 
produced.  To  avoid  all  suspicion  of  collusion  or  trick- 
ery, 'twas  a  brand-new  pack — observe  there's  no  decep- 
tion— bought  by  Rue  herself  that  afternoon  in  Bond 
Street.  With  much  air  of  serious  mystery,  the  Colorado 
Seer  pulled  off  the  stamped  cover  before  their  very  eyes, 
gave  the  cards  themselves  to  Will  to  shuffle,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  offer  them  to  every  member  of  the  company  one 
by  one  in  order.  Each  drew  a  card,  looked  at  it,  and  re- 
placed it  in  the  pack.  Instantly,  the  Seer  in  a  very  loud 
voice,  without  one  moment's  hesitation,  announced  it  cor- 


A  PROPHET  INDEED ! 


i8i 


s  was 
trick- 

decep- 
Bond 

lorado 


ly  one 
Ind  re- 
loud 


rectly  as  ten  of  spades,  ace  of  <:lubs,  five  of  hearts,  or 
queen  of  diamonds.  It  was  an  excellent  trick,  and  the 
I)crfornKr  could  do  it  equally  well  with  ipen  eyes  or  blind- 
folded ;  he  could  offer  the  cards  behind  his  back,  after  the 
pack  had  been  shuffled  and  handed  him  unseen ;  he  could 
even  succeed  in  the  dark,  he  said,  if  the  lights  were  low- 
ered, and  each  person  in  the  company  took  his  own  card 
out  to  inspect  it  in  the  passage. 

"That  looks  like  genuine  thnught-reading,'  Will  was 
compelled  to  admit,  thinking  it  .  r  in  his  own  mind ; 
"  but  perhaps  he  forces  his  cards.  One  knows  conjurers 
can  do  such  wonderful  things  in  the  way  of  forcing." 

Instantly  the  Seer  turned  upon  him  with  an  air  of  in- 
jured innocence.  "If  you  think  there's  any  co'  juring 
about  this  performance,"  he  exclaimed,  with  much  dig- 
nity, drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height  of  six  feet 
two,  "  you  can  offer  them  yourself,  and  allow  each  lady 
and  gentleman  in  the  room  to  pick  as  they  choose  for  them- 
selves among  them,  I'll  take  each  card,  blindfold,  as  fast 
as  they  pick,  hold  it  up  behind  my  back,  with  my  hands 
tied,  without  seeing  it  myself,  and  read  off  for  you  what 
it  is  by  direct  thought-transference." 

Will  accepted  the  test — a  fairly  severe  one ;  and,  sure 
enough,  the  Seer  was  right.  Carefully  blindfolded  with 
one  of  those  molded  wraps,  invented  for  the  purpose, 
which  prevent  all  possibility  of  looking  down  through  the 
chinks,  he  yet  took  each  card  behind  his  back  in  one  hand, 
held  it  up  before  their  eyes  without  moving  his  head,  and 
gave  out  its  name  distinctly  and  instantly.  The  audience 
was  impressed.  There  was  a  touch  of  magic  in  it.  But 
the  Seer  smiled  blandly. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  he  murmured  aloud,  with  a  dep- 
recating little  laugh ;  "  a  mere  matter  of  choosing  be- 
tween fifty-two  alternatives — which,  after  all,  is  easy. 
With  Mrs.  Palmer's  consent,"  and  he  turned  in  a  grace- 
fully deferential  attitude  to  Rue,  "  I  can  show  you  some- 
thing a  great  deal  more  remarkable.  Here  are  pencils 
and  papers.  Each  lady  or  gentleman  will  please  take  a 
sheet  as  I  hand  them  round.  Write  anything  you  like,  in 
English,  French,  German  or  Spanish,  on  the  piece  of 
paper.  Then  fold  it  up,  so,  and  put  it  into  one  of  these 
envelopes  gummed  down  and  fastened.    After  that,  as 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


LO 


!  I.I 


|50     ■^~       M^l 

tii  ^   12.2 


'•2^  III  '-^  Illi4 

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► 

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y 


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Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WIBSTM.N.Y.  MSM 

(7I«)I72-4S03 


ii; 


182 


LINNET 


this  experiment  requires  very  great  concentration  of 
thought " — he  knitted  his  brows,  and  assumed  an  ex- 
pression of  the  intensest  internal  effort — '*  with  Mrs. 
Palmer's  kind  leave,  we  will  turn  out  the  electric  light, 
which  confuses  and  distracts  one  by  revealing  to  the  eye 
so  many  surrounding  visible  objects.  And  then,  with- 
out breaking  the  envelopes  in  which  you  have  enclosed  the 
pieces  of  paper,  I  will  read  out  to  you,  in  the  dark,  what 
each  of  you  has  v/ritten." 

He  spoke  deliberately,  with  slow  western  American 
distinctness,  though  with  a  pleasing  accent.  That  accent, 
superimposed  on  his  native  negro  dialect,  had  cost  him  no 
small  effort.  The  guests,  half-incredulous,  took  the 
sheets  of  paper  he  distributed  to  them  one  by  one,  and 
wrote  down  a  sentence  or  two,  according  to  taste,  after  a 
little  interval  of  whispered  consultation.  Then,  by  the 
Seer's  direction,  they  folded  the  slips  in  two  and  placed 
them  in  their  envelopes,  each  bearing  outside  the  name  of 
the  person  who  wrote  it.  Florian  collected  the  papers, 
all  carefully  gummed  down,  and  handed  them  to  the  Seer, 
who  stood  ready  to  receive  them  at  his  place  on  the  plat- 
form. Without  one  moment's  delay,  the  lights  were 
turned  out.  It  was  the  instantaneousness,  indeed,  and 
the  utter  absence  of  the  usual  hocus-pocus,  that  dis- 
tinguished Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes's  unique  performance 
from  the  ordinary  style  of  spiritualist  conjuring.  In  a 
second,  the  Seer's  voice  rang  out  clear  from  his  place: 
"  First  envelope,  Mrs.  Palmer,  containing  inscription  in 
French — very  prettily  written: 

*  La  vie  est  brfive  : 

Un  peu  d'  amour, 
Un  peu  de  r6ve, 

Et  puis— bonjour. 

La  vie  est  vaine : 

Un  peu  d'^spoir, 
Un  peu  de  haine, 

Et  puis— bonsoir.' 

"  Extremely  graceful  verses ;  I  don't  know  the  author. 
However,  no  matter!  .  .  .  Second  envelope,  Colonel 
Marchmont,  containing  inscription  in  English.  '  The  gen- 
eral immediately  ordered  an  advance,  and  the  gallant  21st, 


A  PROPHET  INDEED ! 


183 


regardless  of  danger,  charged  for  the  battery  in  mag- 
nificent style,  sabring  the  enemy's  gunners  in  a  wild  out- 
burst of  military  enthusiasm.'  Very  characteristic!  A 
most  soldierly  choice.  And  boldly  written  .  .  .  Third 
envelope,  Mrs.  Sartoris, — stop  please!  the  lady's 
thoughts  are  wandering;  kindly  fix  your  attention  for  a 
moment.  Madam,  on  the  words  you  have  given  me.  Ah, 
so ;  that's  better. — *  The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting 
day;  The  lowing  herd  wmds  slowly  o'er  the  lea;  The 
ploughman  homeward  wends  ' — wends  ?  wends  ?  it  should 
have  been  *  plods '  ;  but  *  wends  '  is  what  you  thought — 
'  The  ploughman  homeward  wends  his  weary  way.  And 
leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me.'  Very  appropri- 
ate; it's  dark  enough  here!  And  I  am  the  only  speaker. 
Bend  your  minds  to  what  you  have  written,  please,  or  I 
may  have  to  hesitate.  Each  think  of  your  own.  .  .  . 
Fourth  envelope,  Mr.  Florian  Wood,  containing  inscrip- 
tion : 

*  We  struggle  fain  to  enlarge 
Our  bounded  physical  recipiency, 
Increase  our  power,  supply  fresh  oil  to  life, 
Repair  the  waste  of  age  and  sickness:  no, 
It  skills  not !  life's  inadequate  to  joy, 
As  the  soul  sees  joy,  tempting  life  to  take. 

An  exceedingly  appropriate  quotation!  I  forget  where  it 
comes  from.  Try  to  concentrate  your  mind,  Mr.  Wood. 
Ah,  now  I  know! — from  Brr  wning's  Cleon." 

Florian's  mellifluous  voice  broke  the  silence  in  the  audi- 
tory. "  This  is  wonderful ! "  he  said^  in  his  impressive 
tone,  "  most  wonderful !  miraculous !  I  never  heard  any- 
thing in  my  life  to  equal  it." 

The  Seer,  noting  his  advantage,  didn'i  pause  for  a 
moment  to  answer  the  interruption,  but,  smiling  a  self- 
satisfied  though  invisible  smile,  which  could  be  heard  in 
his  voice  in  spite  of  the  dense  darkness,  went  on  still  more 
rapidly,  "  Fifth  envelope,  Lady  Martindale,  a  familiar 
quotation,  *  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever.'  Somewhat 
hackneyed  that,  but  easy  enough  to  read  on  he^  brain  for 
that  very  reason.  .  .  .  Sixth  envelope ;  Sir  Henry  Martin- 
dale — I  regret  to  say,  a  confirmed  sceptic ;  Sir  Henry  didn't 
believe  I  could  read  his  thoughts,  so  he  wrote  down  these 


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rude  words:  '  The  performance  is  a  sham,  and  the  man's 
a  humbug.'  But  the  performance  is  not  a  sham,  and  the 
man's  a  thought-reader.  Sir  Henry  also  wrote  three 
words  below  in  the  Russian  character,  which  he  learnt 
in  the  Crimea.  Now,  I  don't  know  Russian,  and  I  can  t 
pretend  to  read  thoughts  in  languages  I  don't  understand, 
any  more  than  I  could  pretend  to  repeat  a  conversation  I 
happened  to  overhear  on  top  of  ar<  omnibus  in  Japanese 
or  Hottentot.  But  I  can  tell  Sir  Henry  what  he  thought 
in  English  as  he  wrote  those  words;  he  thought  to  him- 
self, *  That's  a  puzzler  for  him,  that  is ;  I'll  bet  five  quid 
that'll  beat  the  fellow.'  " 

The  audience  laughed  at  this  unexpected  sally.  Sir 
Henry  felt  uncomfortable.  But  tlie  Seer,  unabashed, 
went  on  as  before,  without  an  instant's  pause,  to  the  suc- 
ceeding envelopes.  He  ran  through  them  all  in  the  same 
rapid  manner,  till  he  reached  the  last,  "  Miss  Violet  Far- 
rar, — kindly  concentrate  your  thoughts  on  the  subject, 
Sefiorita, — Miss  Farrar  wrote  a  couple  of  lines  from 
Swinburne: 

'Thou  hast  forgotten,  O  summer  swallow, 
But  the  world  shall  end  when  I  forget.* 

That's  the  last  I  received ! "  He  drew  a  deep  sigh. 
Then  without  one  instant  interposed,  "  Turn  up  the  lights, 
please,"  he  said.  "  To  show  all's  fair,  I'll  return  you  your 
envelopes." 

Will  turned  the  light  on  again  in  a  turmoil  of  surprise. 
He  had  never  before  seen  anything  that  looked  so  like  a 
genuine  miracle.  There  stood  the  Seer,  erect  and  smil- 
ing, with  all  the  envelopes  in  a  huddled  heap  on  the  little 
round  table  on  the  platform  teside  him.  With  a  quiet 
air  of  triumph,  he  stepped  down  to  the  floor,  and  reading 
out  the  names  as  he  walked  along  the  rows,  replaced  in 
each  outstretched  hand — its  own  envelope,  unopened. 
The  visitors  tore  the  covers  off  before  his  eyes,  and  found 
inside — their  own  manuscript,  exactly  as  they  had  writ- 
ten it.  It  was  a  most  convincing  trick,  and  the  Colorado 
Seer  had  good  cause  to  be  proud  of  the  astounded  way  in 
which  his  company  received  it. 

A  buj'^  of  voices  ran  humming  round  the  room  for 
some  minutes  together  as  the  Seer  concluded.    Every- 


A  PROPHET  INDEED  ! 


185 


body  hazarded  some  conjecture  of  his  own,  more  or  less 
inept,  as  to  how  the  man  did  it.  The  younger  ladies  were 
mostly  of  opinion  that  he  "  must  have  a  confederate  " — 
though  how  a  confederate  could  help  him  with  this  par- 
ticular trick,  they  didn't  deign  to  explain,  not  having,  in- 
deed, any  clear  picture  of  their  own  in  their  sapient  heads 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  confederacy.  They  merely  threw 
out  the  hint  in  the  self-same  expansive  and  generous  spirit 
in  which  they  are  wont  to  opine  that  "  it's  done  by  elec- 
tricity," or,  that  "  the  thing  has  springs  in  it."  Mr. 
Arthur  Sartoris,  the  East  End  curate,  and  two  old  maids, 
with  amiable  profiles  in  a  back  row,  were  inclined  to  set 
it  down  to  "  cerebral  undulations  in  the  ethereal  medium  " 
— which,  of  course,  would  be  competent  to  explain  almost 
anything,  if  they  only  existed.  Lady  Martindale  leaned 
rather  towards  the  extremer  view  that  "  the  man  had  deal- 
ings with  a  familiar  spirit,"  and  objected  to  take  any  fur- 
ther part  in  such  doubtful  proceedings.  Sir  Henry,  while 
not  venturing  to  offer  any  direct  explanation,  was  yet  re- 
minded at  once  of  some  very  remarkable  and  surprising 
feats  he  had  seen  performed  by  a  fakir  in  India,  who  had 
told  him  the  name  of  his  future  wife,  made  a  mango-tree 
grow  and  bear  fruit  before  his  eyes,  and  sent  a  boy  to 
climb  up  a  loose  end  of  twine  till  he  disappeared  in  space, 
whence  he  was  precipitated  in  fragments  a  few  minutes 
later,  to  get  up  and  walk  away  one  moment  afterwards,  at 
the  first  touch  of  the  fakir's  wand,  as  cool  and  uncon- 
cerned as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Everybody  had  a 
theory  which  satisfied  himself;  and  every  theory  alike 
seemed  pure  bosh  to  Will  Deverill. 

To  everybody's  surprise,  however,  Florian's  melodious 
voice,  after  that  one  interruption,  took  no  further  part  in 
the  brisk  discussion.  The  world  rather  expected  that 
Florian  would  intervene  with  some  abstruse  hypothesis 
of  telepathic  action,  or  enlarge  on  the  occult  influence  of 
soul  upon  soul,  without  the  need  for  any  gross  and  pal- 
pable link  of  material  connection.  But  Florian  held  his 
peace.  He  had  an  idea  of  his  own,  and  he  wasn't  going 
to  impart  it  for  nothing  to  anybody.  Only  once  did  he 
speak.  "  The  man  has  eyes  in  the  back  of  his  head,"  a 
lady  had  cried  after  one  trick  in  profound  astonishment. 

"  Say,  rather,  the  man  has  eyes  in  the  tips  of  his 


Ill 


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I 


fingers,"  Florian  corrected  gravely.     For  he  was  no  fool, 
Florian. 

The  Seer  heard  him,  and  darted  a  strange  glance  at 
his  face.  This  man  Wood  was  too  clever.  The  Seer 
must  square  him! 

The  evening  v*^ore  av/ay,  and  conjecture  died  down. 
The  Seer  mixed  with  the  throng  in  his  private  capacity, 
told  good  stories  to  the  men  with  a  strong  Western  flavor, 
said  pretty  things  to  the  women  with  Parisian  grace,  and 
flashed  his  expressive  eyes  into  theirs  to  point  them. 
Everj'body  allowed  he  was  a  most  agreeable  man,  and 
everybody  thought  his  performance  "  simply  marvelous." 

Florian  waited  on  the  door-step  as  the  Seer  was  leav- 
ing. "  I'll  walk  home  with  you,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of 
quiet  determination. 

The  Seer  stared  at  him  hard.  "  As  you  like,"  he  an- 
swered, coldly;  but  it  was  clear  from  his  tone  he  dis- 
trusted Florian. 

They  walked  round  the  corner  for  some  yards  in  silence. 
Then  Florian  spoke  first.  "  There  was  only  one  thing  I 
didn't  quite  understand,"  he  began,  with  a  confidential 
air,  "  and  that  was  how  the  dickens  you  managed  to  get 
those  gummed  envelopes  open." 

The  Seer  stood  still  for  a  second,  and  fronted  him. 
They  were  in  a  lonely  street.  "  Now,  you  look  here,  Mr. 
Florian  Wood,"  the  American  said  quietly,  dropping  back 
all  at  once  into  his  native  dialect  and  his  native  accent, 
"  you  lay  low  this  evening.  You  thought  you  spotted  it. 
I  saw  you  lay  low,  and  I  knew  pretty  well  you  meant  to 
come  round  and  have  it  out  some  time  with  me.  Well, 
sir,  what  do  you  mean  by  insinuating  to  a  gentleman  like 
me  that  I  broke  those  there  envelopes?  That's  an  impu- 
tation on  my  honesty  and  honor ;  and  out:  West,  you  know, 
we  answer  questions  like  that  only  one  way  .  .  .  with 
a  six-shooter." 

He  spoke  with  the  menacing  air  of  an  angry  bully. 
But  Florian  wasn't  exactly  the  sort  of  man  to  be  bullied ; 
small  as  he  was,  he  did  not  lack  for  courap?.  If  Mr. 
Joaquin  Holmes  was  tall  and  big-built,  why,  Florian  was 
backed  up  by  all  the  strength  of  the  police  of  London. 
The  Englishman  smiled.  "Yes,  you  do,  out  West,  I 
know,"  he  answered,  calmly ;  "  but  in  London,  that  style's 


A  PROPHET  INDEED  ! 


i8; 


very  much  out  of  fashion.  We  keep  a  poHce  force  on 
purpose  to  prevent  it.  Now,  don't  let's  be  two  fools.  I 
lay  low,  as  you  say.  It  you  want  me  to  go  on  lying  low 
in  future,  you'll  answer  me  sensibly,  like  a  man  of  the 
world,  and  trust  my  honor.  If  you  want  me  to  expose 
you,  you'll  tell  lies  and  bluster.  You've  had  twenty 
pounds  down  from  my  friend  Mrs.  Palmer  for  this  eve- 
ning's entertainment.  That's  first-rate  pay.  You  can't 
earn  it  again,  if  your  system's  blown  upon." 

The  Coloradan  darted  a  furtive  side-glance  at  Florian. 
This  sleek-faced,  innocent-looking,  high-flown  little  Eng- 
lishman was  more  dangerous,  after  all,  than  the  Western- 
er imagined.  But  he  blustered  still  for  a  while  about  his 
honor  and  his  honesty;  he  was  ashamed  to  throw  up  the 
sponge  so  easily.  Florian  listened,  unmoved.  All  this 
talk  fell  flat  upon  him.  At  last,  when  the  Seer  had  ex- 
hausted his  whole  stock  of  available  indignation,  Florian 
interposed  once  more,  bland  and  suave  as  ever :  "  It's  a 
very  good  trick,"  the  small  man  said,  smiling,  "  and  I 
don't  know  how  you  managed  that  part  about  the  enve- 
lopes. .  .  .  Besides,  I  never  met  such  delicacy  of  touch  in 
my  life  before — in  a  sighted  person !  " 

At  that  word,  Joaquin  Holmes  gave  a  perceptible  start. 
He  saw  its  implications.  It  is  the  term  which  the  blind 
in  asylums  or  the  like  invariably  apply  to  the  outside  world 
with   normal   vision. 

Florian  noticed  the  little  start,  all  involuntary  as  it  was ; 
and  the  Seer  in  turn  observed  that  he  noticed  it.  No 
man  can  play  the  thought-reading  or  spiritualist  game 
unless  endowed  with  exceptional  quickness  of  perception. 

"  How  did  you  know  I'd  ever  been  blind  ?  "  he  asked, 
quickly,  taken  aback  for  a  moment,  and  making  just  that 
once  an  unguarded  admission. 

I  didn't  know  it,"  Florian  answered,  with  equal  frank- 
ness. "  I  didn't  even  guess  it.  But  I  saw  at  once  you'd 
at  least  been  bred  and  brought  up  among  the  blind.  My 
own  grandfather  was  blind,  you  see,  and  my  uncle  as 
well ;  and  I've  inherited  from  them,  myself,  some  germs  of 
the  same  faculty.  But  you've  got  it  stronger  than  any- 
one I  ever  saw  in  my  life  till  now.  .  .  .  Besides,  I  want 
to  know  how  you  managed  those  envelopes.  I  hate 
being  baffled.    W'len  I  see  a  good  trick,  I  like  to  under- 


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stand  it.  Remember,  I  have  influence  in  the  press  and  in 
Society.  I  can  serve  your  purpose.  But  I  make  it  the 
price  of  my  lying  low  in  future  that  you  tell  me  the  way 
you  managed  about  the  envelopes." 

The  Seer  seized  his  arm.  "  You're  a  durned  smart 
chap,"  he  said,  with  genuine  admiration.  "  Nobody,  even 
in  America,  ever  guessed  that  trick;  and  we're  smarter 
out  there,  I  reckon,  than  the  run  of  the  old  country. 
Come  along  to  my  rooms,  and  A^e'll  ^alk  this  thing  over." 

"  No  thank  you,"  Florian  answered,  with  a  quiet  little 
smile.  "  My  friends  wouldn't  know  where  I'd  gone  to- 
night. Your  hint  about  six-shooters  is  quite  too  preg- 
nant. But  if  you  care  to  come  home  to  my  humble  cham- 
bers in  Grosvenor  Gardens,  and  make  terms  of  surrender, 
we  can  see  this  thing  out  over  a  whiskey  and  soda." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


THE  ART  OF  PROPHESYING 


They  walked  on,  side  by  side,  to  the  house  in  Grosvenor 
Gardens.  Florian  let  himself  in  with  a  latch-key,  and 
rang  the  bell  for  his  servant.  While  he  waited,  he  wrote 
a  name  on  the  back  of  a  card,  carelessly.  "  Look  here, 
Barnes,"  the  butterfly  of  Society  said,  as  his  eminently 
respectable  man-of-all-work  entered  ;  "  this  is  Mr.  Joaquin 
Holmes," — and  he  handed  him  the  card — **  you  can  read 
the  name  there.  He  comes  from  America.  I  particu- 
larly desire  you  to  remark  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes's  appear- 
ance and  features.  You  may  be  called  upon  to  identify 
him."  Then  he  turned  with  his  bland  smile  to  the  dis- 
comfited Seer,  and  observed,  in  that  unfailingly  honeyed 
voice  of  his,  "  You  must  excuse  me,  Mr.  Holmes,  but  as 
a  gentleman  from  out  V»est,  addicted  to  the  frequent 
use  of  the  six-shooter,  I'm  sure  you'll  appreciate  the  deli- 
cacy of  my  motives  for  this  little  precaution.  You  can  go 
now,  Barnes.  A  mere  matter  of  form,  so  that,  in  case 
your  evidence  should  be  needed  in  court,  you'll  be  able  to 
swear  to  Mr.  Holmes's  identity,  and  give  evidence  that  he 
was  here,  in  my  company,  this  evening." 

Barnes  glanced  at  the  card,  and  retired  to  the  door, 
discreetly.  The  Seer  flung  himself  down  in  an  easy-chair 
with  true  Western  sangfroid.  He  knew  he  was  detected ; 
but  he  wasn't  going  to  give  up  the  game  so  soon,  without 
seeing  how  much  Florian  really  understood  of  his  secret 
and  his  methods.  Meanwhile,  Florian  produced  a  couple 
of  pretty  little  old-fashioned  stoneware  jugs  and  some 
Venetian  glasses  from  a  dainty  corner  cupboard.  A  si- 
phon stood  on  a  Moorish  tray  at  his  side  by  the  carved 
Bombay  black-wood  fireplace.  "  Caledonian  or  Hiber- 
nian? "  Florian  asked  turning  to  his  visitor,  with  his  most 
charming  smile — "  I  mean,  Scotch  or  Irish  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  Scotch,"  the  Coloradan  answered,  relaxing 

189 


190 


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« 


his  muscles  a  little,  as  he  began  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
his  entertainer's  humor. 

Florian  poured  it  out  gracefully,  and  touched  the  knob 
of  the  siphon.  Then  he  handed  it,  foaming,  still  bland  as 
ever,  to  the  hesitating  American.  "  Now,  let's  be  frank 
with  one  another,  Mr.  Holmes,"  he  said,  with  cheerful 
promptitude.  "  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you.  You're  a  very 
smart  man,  and  I  admire  your  smartness.  I  lay  low  to- 
night, as  you  justly  observed,  and  I'm  game  to  lie  low — if 
you'll  take  my  terms — in  future.  I'm  not  going  to  blow 
upon  you,  and  I'm  not  going  to  stand  in  the  way  of  your 
success  in  life;  but  I  just  want  to  know — how  did  you 
manage  those  envelopes  ?  " 

"  If  you  think  it's  a  trick,  why,  the  envelopes  would 
be  a  long  chalk  the  easiest  part  of  it,"  the  Seer  responded, 
with  a  dry  little  cough.  '*  The  real  difficulty,  of  course, 
would  be  to  read  in  the  dark  what  folks  had  written. 
And  that's  the  part,  I  claim,  that  I  do  myself  by  pure  force 
of  thought — in  short,  by  psychic  transference." 

He  stared  hard  at  his  host.  Their  eyes  met  searching- 
ly.  It  was  seldom  that  Florian  did  a  vulgar  or  ungrace- 
ful thing ;  but,  as  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes  uttered  those  high- 
sounding  words,  and  looked  him  straight  in  the  face  with 
great  solemnity,  Florian  gravely  winked  at  him.  Then 
he  raised  that  priceless  Venetian  glass  goblet  to  his  curl- 
ing lips,  took  a  long  pull  at  the  whiskey  without  speaking 
a  word,  and  went  over  to  a  desk  by  the  big  front  window. 
From  it  he  took  out  a  pack  of  cards,  and  returned  with 
them  in  his  hand.  "  Shuffle  them,"  he  said,  briefly,  to  the 
uneasy  Seer,  in  his  own  very  tone.  And  the  American 
shuffled  them. 

Florian  picked  one  out  at  random,  and  held  it  before 
him,  face  down  for  some  seconds  in  silence.  "  Now,  I 
can't  do  this  trick  like  you,"  he  said,  in  a  very  business- 
like voice ;  "  but  I  can  do  it  a  little.  Only,  I'm  obliged  to 
feel  the  card  all  over  with  my  fingers  like  this ;  and  I'm 
often  not  right  as  to  the  names  of  the  suits,  though  I 
can  generally  make  a  good  shot  at  the  pips  and  numbers. 
This  is  a  three  that  I've  drawn — I  think,  the  three  of 
spades ;  but  it  may  be  clubs — I  don't  feel  quite  certain." 

He  turned  it  up.     Sure  enough.  It  was  a  three,  but  of 


THE  ART  OF  PROPHESYING 


191 


clubs  not  spades.     "  I'll  try  another,"  he  said,  unabashed. 
And  he  drew  one  and  felt  it. 

"  This  is  a  nine  of  diamonds,"  he  continued,  more  con- 
fidently, after  a  moment's  pause.  The  American  took  it 
from  him,  without  turning  up  its  face,,  drew  his  fore- 
finger almost  imperceptibly  over  the  unexposed  side,  and 
answered  without  hesitation,  "  Yes ;  you're  right — that's 
it — the  nine  of  diamonds." 

Florian  pulled  out  a  third,  and  felt  it  again  carefully 
with  the  tips  of  his  fingers.  "  It's  a  picture  card  this 
time,"  he  went  on :  "  King,  Queen,  or  Knave  of  Hearts, 
I'm  not  sure  which.  I'm  no  good  at  pictu'^e  cards. 
They're  all  a  blur  to  me.  I  can  tell  them  only  by  the 
single  pips  in  the  corners." 

The  Seer  took  it  from  him  hardly  touching  it  percep- 
tibly. "  That's  not  a  heart !  "  he  answered  in  a  sharp 
voice,  without  a  second's  hesitation ;  "  that's  the  Jack  of 
Spades !  You're  right  as  to  the  general  shape,  but  you've 
neglected  the  handle." 

He  turned  it  up  as  he  spoke.  The  Knave  of  Spades  in- 
deed it  was.     Florian  corrected  him  solemnly. 

"  In  good  English  society,"  he  murmured,  still  polite 
and  still  inscrutable,  "  we  say  Knave,  not  Jack.  Remem- 
ber that  in  future.  To  call  it  a  Jack's  an  odious  vulgar- 
ism. I  merely  mention  this  fact  because  I  notice  how 
cleverly  you've  managed  to  acquire  the  exact  little  tricks 
of  accent  and  manner  which  are  sure  to  take  with  an 
English  audience.  I  siiould  be  sorry  to  think  a  man  of 
your  brains,  and  a  man  of  your  moral  character — positive 
or  negative — should  be  thought  the  less  of  in  this  town 
of  London  for  so  very  unimportant  a  matter  of  detail." 

"  Thank  you,"  the  Seer  responded  quietly,  with  an- 
other searching  look.  "  I  believe,  Mr.  Florian  Wood,  we 
two  understand  each  other.  But  mind  you  " — and  he 
looked  very  wise  and  cunning — "  I  didn't  pass  my  finger 
over  the  cards  at  Mrs.  Palmer's." 

"  So  I   saw,"   Florian   replied,   with   unabated   good- 
humor.     "  But  I  looked  at  them  close — and  I  noticed  they 
were  squeezers.     What's  more,  I  observed  you  took  them 
always  by  the  left-hand  corner  (which  was  the  right  hand, 
upside  down)  whenever  they  were  passed  to  you.     That 


192 


LINNET 


gave  me  the  clue.  1  saw  you  could  read,  with  one  touch 
of  your  finger,  the  number  and  suit  marked  small  in  the 
corner.  I  recognized  how  you  did  it,  though  I  couldn't 
come  near  it  myself.  Your  sense  of  touch  must  be  some- 
thing simply  exquisite." 

The  American's  mouth  curled  gently  at  the  corners. 
Those  words  restored  his  confidence.  He  took  up  a  casual 
book  from  the  table  at  his  side — 'iwas  the  first  edition  of 
Andrew  Lang's  "  Ballades  in  Blue  China  " — for  Florian, 
as  a  man  of  taste,  adored  first  editions.  "  Look  here," 
the  Seer  said,  carelessly.  He  turned  it  face  downwards 
and  opened  it  at  random.  Then,  passing  one  finger  al- 
most imperceptibly  over  the  face  of  a  page,  he  began  to 
read,  as  fast  as  the  human  voice  can  go,  the  very  first 
verses  he  chanced  to  light  upon. 

"  Ballade  of  Primitive  Man." 

"  He  lived  in  a  cave  by  the  seas; 
He  lived  upon  oysters  and  foes; 
But  his  list  of  forbidden  degrees 
An  extensive  morality  shews. 
Geological  evidence  goes 
To  prove  he  had  never  a  pan, 
But  he  shaved  with  a  shell  when  he  chose. 
'  Twas  the  manner  of  primitive  Man.'  " 

He  read  it  like  print.  Florian  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
clasped  his  dainty  hands  on  his  small  breast  before  him, 
and  stared  at  the  Seer  in  unafifected  astonishment.  "  I 
knew  you  did  it  that  way,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  nodding 
his  head  once  or  twice ;  "  I  felt  sure  that  was  the  trick  of 
it ;  but  now  I  see  you  do  it,  why,  it's  more  wonderful,  al- 
most, than  if  it  were  nothing  more  than  a  mere  ordinary 
miracle.  Miracles  are  cheap ;  but  sleight  of  hand  like  this 
— well,  it's  priceless,  priceless !  " 

"  Now,  you're  a  man  of  honor,"  the  Seer  said,  leaning 
forward  anxiously.  "  You've  found  me  out  fair  and 
square,  and  I  don't  deny  it.  But  you're  not  going  to 
round  on  me  and  spoil  my  business,  are  you?  It's  taken 
me  years  and  years  to  work  up  this  sense  by  constant  prac- 
tice ;  and  if  I  thought  you  were  going  to  cut  in  right  now, 
and  peach  upon  me — why,  hanged  if  I  don't  think,  witness 
or  no  witness,  I'd  settle  this  thing  still,  straight  oflf,  with 


THE  ART  OF  PROPHESYING 


193 


;  touch 

in  the 

oukhi't 

I  some- 

rorners. 
I  casual 
ition  of 
Florian, 
:  here," 
■nwards 
ij^er  al- 
egan  to 
ivy  first 


lis  chair, 
)re  him, 
mt.  "I 
Inodding 
trick  of 
jrful,  al- 
)rdinary 
Hke  this 

leaning 

tair   and 

joing  to 

's  taken 

lint  prac- 

rht  now, 

witness 
)flf,  with 


a  six-shooter.  Yes,  sir — r — r,  I'd  settle  it  straight  off,  I 
would,  and  let  'em  scrag  me  if  they  would  for  it !  " 

Florian  stirred  the  fire  languidly  with  a  contemplative 
poker  (a  poker's  a  very  good  weapon  to  fall  back  upon, 
one  knows,  in  case  of  necessity).  "  That'd  be  a  pity,"  he 
drawled  out  calmly,  in  an  unconcerned  voice.  "  I 
wouldn't  like  you  to  make  such  a  nasty  mess  on  my 
Damascus  carpet.  This  is  a  real  old  Damascus,  observe, 
and  I  paid  fifty  guineas  for  it.  It's  a  nice  one,  isn't  it? 
Good  color,  good  pattern !  Besides,  as  you  say,  I'm  a 
man  of  honor.  And  I've  a  fellow-feeling,  too — being 
clever  myself — for  all  other  clever  fellows.  I've  promised 
you  not  to  peach,  if  only  you'll  tell  me  how  you  managed 
those  envelopes.  That's  a  mere  bit  of  ordinary  everyday 
conjuring;  it's  nothing  to  the  skill  and  practice  required 
to  read,  as  you  do,  with  the  tips  of  your  fingers." 

The  Seer  drew  a  long  breath,  and  passed  his  dark  hand 
wearily  across  his  high  brown  forehead. 

"  That's  so !  "  he  answered,  with  a  sigh.  "  You  may 
well  say  that."  Then  he  dropped  spontaneously  into  his 
own  Western  manner.  "  See  here,  stranger,"  he  said, 
eyeing  Florian  hard,  and  laying  one  heavy  hand  on  his 
entertainer's  arm ;  *'  it's  bred  in  the  bone  with  me  to  some 
extent ;  but  all  the  same,  it's  cost  me  fifteen  years  of  prac- 
tice to  develop  it.  I  come  of  a  blind  family,  I  do ;  father 
was  blind,  and  mother  as  well ;  made  their  match  up  at  the 
Indiana  State  Asylum.  Grandfather  was  blind  in 
mother's  family,  and  two  aunts  in  father's.  /  was  born 
sighted ;  but  at  five  year  old  I  was  taken  with  the  cataract. 
They  weren't  any  great  shakes  at  the  cataract  in  Colorado 
where  I  was  raised';  I  was  fifteen  year  old  before  they 
tried  to  couch  it.  So  I  learned  to  read  first  with  embossed 
print  on  Grandfathers  old  blind  Boston  Bible.  I  learned 
to  read  first-rate;  that  was  as  easy  as  ABC,  for  the 
tips  of  my  fingers  were  always  sensitive.  I  learnt  to 
make  mats  a  bit,  too,  and  to  weave  in  colors.  Weaving 
in  colors  develops  the  sensitiveness  of  the  nerves  in  the 
hand ;  you  get  to  distinguish  the  different  strands  by  the 
feel,  and  to  know  whereabouts  you're  up  to  in  the  pat- 
tern." 

"And  at  fifteen  you  recovered  your  sight?"  Florian 
murmured  reflectively,  still  grasping  the  poker. 


194 


LINNET 


J  'P'^ 


I  iliii 


"  Yes,  sir — r — r ;  at  fifteen  they  took  me  to  New  York 
and  got  my  eyes  couched  there.  As  soon  as  ever  I  could 
see,  I  began  to  learn  more  things  still  with  the  tips  of  my 
fingers ;  my  eyes  sort  of  helped  me  to  interpret  what  I 
felt  with  them.  Pretty  soon  I  saw  there  was  money  in 
this  thing.  People  in  Colorado  didn't  care  to  play  poker 
with  me ;  they  found  out  I'd  a  wonderful  notion  what  was 
printed  on  a  card  by  just  drawing  my  finger,  like  this, 
over  the  face  of  it.  I  see  you're  a  straight  man,  and 
haven't  got  many  prejudices ;  so  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
now  my  first  idea  was  to  go  in  for  handling  the  cards  as  a 
profession.  Howe\tr,  I  soon  caught  on  that  that  wasn't 
a  good  game;  people  in  our  section  observed  how  I 
worked  it,  and  it  was  apt  to  lead  in  the  end  to  bowies  and 
other  unpleasantness.  Several  unpleasantnesses  occurred, 
in  fact,  in  Denver  City,  before  I  retired  from  that  branch 
of  the  business.  So  then  I  began  to  reflect  this  thought- 
reading  trick  would  come  in  more  handy ;  one  might  do  a 
bit  at  the  cards  now  and  again  for  a  change;  but  if  one 
tried  it  too  often,  it  might  land  one  Pt  last  in  free  quarters 
at  the  public  expense ;  and  the  thought-reading's  safer  and 
more  gentlemanly  any  way.  So  I  worked  at  learning  to 
read,  as  time  afforded,  till  I  could  read  a  j  .  Inted  book  as 
easy  with  my  fingers  as  I  could  read  it  with  my  eyes.  It 
took  me  ten  years,  I  guess,  to  bring  that  trick  to  perfec- 
tion." 

"  You  made  us  write  with  a  pencil,  I  noticed,"  Florian 
interposed,  with  a  knowing  smile.  "  That's  easier  to  read, 
of  course,  for  a  pencil  digs  in  so." 

The  Seer  regarded  him  with  no  small  adm.iration. 
"  You're  a  smart  man,  and  no  mistake,  sir,"  he  answered, 
emphatically.  "  That's  just  how  I  do  it.  I  read  it  from 
the  back,  where  it's  raised  into  furrows,  in  relief  as  it 
were,  by  the  digging-in ;  I  read  it  backwards.  I  gave  'em 
each  a  pad  with  the  paper,  you  may  have  noticed.  That 
pad  supplies  just  the  right  amount  of  resistance.  I  had 
to  stop  once  or  twice  to-night,  where  T  couldn't  read  a 
sentence,  and  fill  in  the  space  meanwhile  with  .1  little  bit 
of  patter  about  concentrating  their  thoughts  upon  it,  and 
that  sort  of  nonsense.  Mrs.  Sartoris's  hand  was  precious 
hard  to  decipher,  and  there  was  one  young  lady  who 
pressed  so  light,  she  almost  licked  me." 


THE  ART  OF  PROPHESYING 


195 


w  York 
I  could 
s  of  my 
what  I 
loney  in 
.y  poker 
hat  was 
ike  this, 
lan,  and 
[ing  you 
rds  as  a 
t  wasn't 
how  I 
vies  and 
ccurred, 
t  branch 
thought- 
ght  do  a 
It  if  one 
quarters 
afer  and 
rnrng  to 
book  as 
yes.  It 
perfec- 

"lorian 
to  read, 

iration. 

iswered, 

it  from 

ef  as  it 

ave  'em 

That 

I  had 

read  a 

ittle  bit 

it,  and 

)recious 

ly  who 


t( 


And  the  envelopes  ?  "  Florian  asked  once  more. 

The  Seer  smiled  disdainfully.  "  Why,  that's  nothing," 
he  answered,  with  a  contemptuous  curl  of  the  lip.  "  Any 
fool  could  do  that ;  it's  as  easy  as  lying.  The  lower  side- 
flap  of  the  envelopes  is  hardly  fastened  at  all,  with  just  a 
pin's  head  of  gum," — he  drew  one  from  his  pocket — 
"  See  here,"  he  said ;  "  it's  got  a  bit  left  dry  to  wet  and 
fasten  afterwards.  I  draw  out  the  paper,  so,  and  read  it 
with  my  finger-;  then  I  push  it  back,  gum  down  again, 
and  pull  out  the  next  one.  It's  the  rapidity  that  tells,  and 
it's  that  that  takes  so  many  years  of  practice." 

**  But  Browning's  Cleon?  "  Florian  exclaimed.  "  And 
Sir  Henry  Martindale's  having  learnt  the  Russian  charac- 
ter in  the  Crimea?  He  toid  me  it  was  there  he  picked  it 
up  himself.     How  on  earth  did  you  get  at  those,  now  ?  " 

The  Seer  stretched  out  his  legs  with  a  self-satisfied 
smirk,  and  took  a  pull  at  his  whiskey.  "  See  here,  my 
dear  sir,"  he  said,  stroking  his  smooth  chin  placidly ;  "  a 
man  don't  succeed  in  these  walks  of  life  unless  he's  got 
some  nous  in  him  to  start  with.  He's  bound  to  observe, 
and  remember,  and  infer,  a  good  ueal ;  he's  bound  to  have 
an  eye  for  character,  and  be  a  reader  of  faces.  Now,  it 
happens  you  wrote  those  self-same  lines  in  Mrs.  Palmer's 
album ;  and  I  chanced  to  read  them  there  while  I  waited 
for  her  in  the  drawing-room  this  very  morning.  A  man's 
got  to  be  smart,  you  bet.  and  look  out  for  coincidences,  if 
he's  going  to  do  much  in  occult  science  to  astonish  the 
public.  Well,  I've  noticed  every  one  has  certain  pet  quo- 
tations of  his  own,  which  he  uses  frequently;  and  you'd 
be  surprised  to  find  how  often  the  same  quotation  turns 
up,  time  after  time,  in  these  psychical  experimi^nts.  *  The 
curfew  tolls  the  knell,'  or  *  Not  a  drum  was  heard,*  are 
pretty  sure  to  be  given  six  times  out  of  seven  that  one 
holds  a  seance.  But  yours  was  a  new  one ;  so  I  learnt  it 
by  heart,  and  observed  you  set  it  down  to  Br. awning's 
Cleon,  As  for  the  Russian  character — well,  where  was 
an  English  officer  likely  to  learn  it  except  in  the  Crimea? 
That  was  risky,  of  course ;  I  might  have  been  mistaken ; 
but  one  bad  shot  don't  count  against  you,  while  a  good  one 
carries  conviction  straight  off  to  the  mind  of  your  sub- 
ject." 

Florian  paused,  and  considered.    Before  the  end  of 


il'l 


196 


LINNET 


the  evening,  indeed,  he  had  learnt  a  good  many  things 
about  the  trade  of  prophet ,  -md  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes  had 
taker,  incidentally,  every  drop  as  much  whiskey  as  was 
good  for  his  constitution.  When  at  last  he  rose  to  go,  he 
clasped  Florian's  delicate  hand  hard.  "  You're  a  straight 
man,  I  believe,  stranger,"  he  said,  significantly,  "  and  I'm 
sure  you're  a  smart  one.  But  mind  this  from  me,  Mr. 
Florian  Wood,  if  ever  you  round  on  me,  Colorado  or  Lon- 
don, the  six-shooter'll  settle  it." 

Florian  smiled  and  pressed  his  hand.  *'  I  don't  care 
that  for  your  six-shooter,"  he  answered.,  calmly,  with  a 
resonant  snap  of  his  tiny  left  forefinger.  "  But  I  don't 
want  to  spoil  a  man's  prospects  in  life  when  he's  taken 
fifteen  years  to  make  a  consummate  rc~ue  of  himself. 
You're  perfect  in  your  way,  Mr.  Holmes,  and  I  adore  per- 
fection. If  ever  I  breathe  a  single  word  of  this  to  my 
dearest  friend — well,  I  give  you  free  leave  to  whip  out 
that  six-shooter  you're  so  fond  of  bragging  about." 


i 


4'fl 


CHAPTER  XXV 


A   DRAMATIC   VENTURE 


Among  the  minor  successes  of  that  London  season^  all 
the  world  reckoned  the  Colorado  Seer's  Psycho-physical 
Entertainment  at  the  Assyrian  Hall  in  Bond  Street,  and 
Will  Deverill's  dainty  operetta,  "  Honeysuckle,"  at  the 
Duke  of  Edinburgh's  Theater  in  Long  Acre.  The  Seer, 
indeed,  had  been  well  advertised  beforehand  by  the  Morn- 
ing Post  and  other  London  dailies,  which  gave  puffs  pre- 
liminary of  his  marvelous  performance,  "  as  privately  ex- 
hibited to  a  select  audience  at  Mrs.  Palmer's  charming 
and  hospitable  residence  in  Hans  Place,  Chelsea."  A 
well-known  society  writer,  with  a  lingering  love  of  the 
occult  and  the  supernatural,  saw  in  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes's 
abtruse  gifts  "  a  genuine  case  of  Second  Sight,  and  a 
curious .  modern  parallel  to  the  most  famous  feats  of  the 
Delphic  oracle  and  the  Indian  Yogis."  The  Spectator 
suggested  in  a  learned  article  that  "  Mahatmas  were 
about " ;  the  Daily  News  averred  that  "  Nothing  like  Mr. 
Holmes's  extraordinary  powers  had  been  seen  on  earth 
since  the  Egyptian  magicians  impiously  counterfeited  the 
miracles  of  Moses  and  Aaron  before  the  throne  of  Pha- 
raoh." Every  one  of  the  accounts  particulaly  insisted 
on  the  presence  at  the  first  trial  of  Mr.  Florian  Wood, 
the  distinguished  musical  and  dramatic  critic;  whose  in- 
most thoughts  the  Seer  had  read  offhand  like  an  open 
book,  and  whose  quotations  from  little-known  and  un- 
popular sources  he  had  instantly  assigned  to  their  proper 
origin.  But  when  Florian  himself  was  questioned  on  the 
subject,  he  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  esoteric  knowl- 
edge, put  two  soft  white  fingers  to  his  delicate  lips,  and 
smiled  mysteriously.  To  say  the  truth,  Florian  loved  a 
mystery.  It  flattered  his  sense  of  personal  importance. 
Nay,  he  would  almost  have  joined  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes  as 
a  confederate  in  his  little  tricks  for  pure  love  of  mystifi- 

197 


198 


LINNET 


si 


cation,  were  it  not  for  a  wholesome  and  restraining  dread 
that  others  miglit  find  them  out  as  he  himself  had  done. 
So  the  Seer,  thus  well  and  cheaply  advertised  by  anticipa- 
tion, made  a  hit  for  the  moment,  as  dozens  of  such  quacks 
have  done  before  and  since,  from  Home  and  Bishop  to  the 
Little  Georgia  Magnet. 

As  for  Will  Deverill's  play,  the  first  night  was  crowded. 
All  London  was  there,,  in  the  sense  that  the  Savage,  the 
Garrick,  and  the  Savile  give  to  all  London.  Rue  had 
taken  tickets  for  stalls  with  reckless  extravagance,  and  be- 
stowed them  right  and  left,  as  if  on  the  author's  behalf, 
to  every  influential  soul  among  her  fine  acquaintance. 
Florian  whipped  up  a  fair  number  of  first-nighters  of  the 
literary  clique,  and  not  a  few  great  ladies  from  Belgravia 
drawing-rooms.  The  audience  was  distinctly  and  decidedly 
favorable.  But  not  all  the  packed  houses  that  ever  were 
can  save  a  bad  play,  if  bad  it  is,  from  condign  damnation. 
The  incorruptible  pit  and  the  free  and  independent  electors 
cf  the  gallery  are  no  respecters  of  persons,  in  their  critical 
capacity.  Fortunately,  however,  as  it  happened,  Will's 
play  was  a  good  one.  It  didn't  take  the  audience  by  storm 
at  the  first  hearing,  but  it  pleased  and  satisfied  them.  One 
or  two  of  the  melodies  had  a  catchy  ring;  one  or  two  of 
the  scenes  were  both  brilliant  and  pathetic.  The  house  en- 
cored all  the  principal  tunes;  and  when  the  curtain  fell 
on  virtue  triumphant,  in  the  person  of  Honeysuckle,  vocif- 
erous cries  arose  on  either  side  foi    *  Author !  Author !  " 

Will  sat  in  a  stage  box,  throughout  the  whole  perform- 
ance, with  Florian,  Rue,  his  sister,  Mrs.  Sartoris,  and  her 
husband,  the  amiable  East  End  curate.  It  was  a  three-act 
piece.  As  far  as  the  end  of  the  second  act,  Maud  Sartoris 
was  delighted ;  it  was  a  distinct  success,  and  Rue  was  very 
well  pleased.  Maud  thought  that  was  good;  after  all, 
whether  she  "  smelt  of  drapery  "  or  not,  it's  well  for  one's 
brother  to  produce  a  favorable  impression  on  a  woman 
with  a  fortune  of  seven  hundred  thousand.  But  the  third 
act,  she  felt  sure,  was  distinctly  inferior  to  the  two  that 
preceded  it.  The  said  as  much  to  Rue.  while  Will,  trem- 
bling with  excitement  from  head  to  foot,  slipped  oflf  to 
make  his  expected  bow  before  the  curtain. 

At  those  words  of  hers,  Rue  turned  pale.     She  had 


A  DRAMATIC  VENTURE 


199 


thought  so  all  through,  though  she  would  hardly  acknowl- 
edge it,  even  to  herself,  and  she  feared  in  her  own  heart 
she  knew  the  reason.  Could  Will  have  written  the  first 
two  acts  during  those  happy  days  when  his  head  was 
stuffed  full  of  Linnet  at  Meran,  and  gone  on  with  *-he 
third  in  a  London  lodging  after  he  learned  of  her  marriage 
to  Andreas  Hausberger?  Rue  more  than  half-suspected 
that  obvious  explanation — for  Honeysuckle  was  Linnet — 
and  the  thought  disquieted  her. 

"  You're  quite  right,"  Florian  interposed,  with  his  airy 
eloquence.  '*  The  first  two  acts  are  good — distinctly  good. 
Will  wrote  them  in  the  Tyrol.  The  third's  a  poor  thing 
— mere  fluff  and  feather :  oh,  what  a  falling  off  was  there ! 
It  was  written  in  London!  But  who  can  sing  aright  of 
Arcady  m  the  mud  of  Mayfair?  Who  can  sing  of  Zion 
by  the  willows  of  Babylon?  Will  drew  his  first  inspira- 
tion from  the  sparkling  air  of  Meran ;  it  faded  like  a  mist 
with  the  mists  ot  the  Channel." 

"  The  audience  doesn't  seem  to  think  so,"  Rue  put  in, 
somewhat  anxiously,  as  a  hearty  round  of  applause  greeted 
Will  by  the  footlights.  *'  They  feel  it's  all  right.  They're 
evidently  satisfied,  on  the  whole,  with  the  nature  of  the 
dcnoument/' 

"  If  you  look  at  the  papers  to-morrow  morning,"  Florian 
answered,  carelessly,  "  '/ou'll  find  every  candid  critic  dis- 
agrees with  the  audience  and  agrees  with  Mrs.  Sartoris. 
But  what  matter  for  that!  It's  a  very  good  play,  with 
some  very  good  tunes  in  it ;  and  the  actors  have  made  it. 
I  really  didn't  think  our  dear  friend  Will  could  do  any- 
thing so  good — till  I  saw  it  interpreted.  I  call  the  recep- 
tion, on  the  whole,  most  promising." 

Rue  felt  positively  annoyed  that  Florian  should  speak 
so  condescendingly  of  Will's  beautiful  music.  He  damned 
it  with  faint  praise,  while  Rue  herself  felt  for  it  a  genuine 
enthusiasm.  For  she  knew  it  was  good, — all  except  that 
third  act, — and  even  there  she  saw  touches  of  really  fine 
composition. 

In  a  minute  or  two  more,  Will  came  back  to  them 
radiant.  Florian  boarded  him  at  once.  "  Ten  thousand 
congratulations,  dear  boy,"  he  cried  affectedly.  "  We're 
all  delighted.    Laurel  wreaths  for  the  victor !    Bays  drape 


200 


LINNET 


u 


your  lute.  Everybody's  been  saying  the  first  two  acts  are 
a  triumphal  progress,  though  the  third,  we  agree,  fails  to 
sustain  the  attention — flags  in  interest  somewhat." 

Will  colored  up  to  his  eyes.  Rue  noted  the  blush ;  her 
heart  sank  at  sight  of  it.  "  I  knev/  it  was  weak  myself," 
he  admitted,  a  little  shamefacedly.  "  The  inspiration  died 
down.  Perhaps  it  was  natural.  You  see,  Maud,"  he  went 
on,  turning  round  to  his  sister  as  to  a  neutral  person,  and 
avoiding  Rue's  eye,  "  I  wrote  and  composed  the  first  two 
acts  at  Innsbruck  and  Meran,  under  the  immediate  in- 
fluence of  the  Tyrolese  air  and  the  Tyrolese  music;  they 
welled  up  in  me  in  the  midst  of  peasant  songs  and  cow- 
bells. The  third  act,  I  had  to  manufacture  at  my  rooms  in 
Craven  Street.  Surroundings,  of  course^  make  a  deal  of 
difl^erence  to  this  sort  of  thing.  1  was  in  the  key  there, 
and  out  of  it  in  London.  Pumped-up  poetry  and  pumped- 
up  music  are  poor  substitutes  after  all  for  the  spontaneous 
article." 

He  didn't  dare  to  look  at  Rue  ar.  he  spoke  those  words. 
He  was  conscious  all  the  while,  let  him  boggle  ;is  he  might, 
that  she  knew  the  real  reason  fcr  the  failure  of  the  denou- 
ment.  And  he  was  conscious,  too,  though  he  was  a 
modest  man,  that  Rue  would  ieel  hurt  at  the  effect  Linnet's 
marriage  had  had  upon  his  music.  As  for  Rue  herself, 
poor  girl,  her  face  was  crimson.  To  think  she  should 
have  done  so  much,  end  wronged  her  modesty  so  far  with 
Mr.  Wildon  Blades  to  get  Wil's  operetta  put  on  the  stage 
that  evening;  to  think  she  should  have  riskeu  her  own 
money  to  ensure  its  success,  and  then  to  find  it  owed  its 
inspiration  wholly  and  solely  to  the  charms  of  her  peasant 
rival,  Linnet !  Rue  was  more  than  merely  vexed ;  she  was 
shamed  and  humiliated.  Will's  triumph  was  turned  for 
her  into  gall  and  bitterness.  His  heart,  after  all,  was 
still  fixed  on  his  cow-girl ! 

They  drove  home  together  in  Rue's  luxurious  brougham 
to  Hans  Place,  Chelsea — Mr.  Sartoris  and  Florian  fol- 
lowing close  in  a  hansom.  The  party  were  engaged  to  sup 
at  Rue's.  Florian  had  invited  them,  indeed,  to  a  banquet 
at  Romano's  as  more  strictly  in  keeping  with  the  evening's 
entertainment ;  but  Maud  Sartoris  had  objected  to  such  a 
plan  as  "  improper,"  and  likely  to  damage  dear  Arthur's 
prospects.    So  at  Rue's  they  supped.     But,  in  spite  of 


A  DRAMATIC  VENTURE 


201 


Will's  success,  and  his  health  which  they  drank  in  Rue's 
finest  champagne,  with  musical  honors,  the  party  some- 
how lacked  go  and  spirit.  Will  was  dimly  conscious  in 
his  own  soul  of  having  unwittingly  behaved  rather  ill  to 
Rue;  Rue  was  dimly  conscious  of  harboring  some  deep- 
seated  but  infinite  resentment  towards  Will  and  Linnet. 
It  was  some  consolation,  at  least,  to  know  that  the  girl 
was  now  decently  married  and  done  for;  sooner  or  later, 
for  certain,  such  a  man  as  Will  Deverill  was  sure  to  get 
over  a  mere  passing  fancy  for  a  handsome  up-standing 
Tyrol ese  peasant-girl. 

After  supper,  AA'^ill  Deverill  and  the  Sartorises  went 
home  in  a  party.  But  Florian  lingered  late.  This  was  an 
excellent  opportunity.  Rue  was  annoyed  with  Will,  and 
therefore  all  the  more  likely  to  accept  another  suitor.  He 
gazed  around  the  room — that  little  palace  of  art  he  had 
decorated  with  such  care  for  his  soul  to  dwell  in.  "  Upon 
my  word,  Rue,"  he  murmured  at  last,  after  some  desul- 
tory talk,  glancing  around  him  complacently,  "  I'm  proud 
of  this  place;  I  never  knew  before  what  a  decorator  I 
was.  It's  simply  charming."  He  gazed  at  her  fixedly. 
"  It's  the  sweetest  home  in  all  London,"  he  went  on  in  a 
rapt  voice,  "  and  it's  inhabited  by  the  sweetest  and  bright- 
est creature  in  the  whole  of  Christendom.  I  sometimes 
think,  Rue,  as  I  gaze  round  this  house,  how  happy  I 
should  be — if  I  too  lived  in  it." 

For  a  moment,  Rue  stared  at  him  without  quite  under- 
standing what  he  meant  to  convey  by  this  singular  intima- 
tion. Then  all  at  once  it  flashed  across  her.  In  spite  of 
her  distress,  a  smile  stole  over  her  face.  She  held  out  her 
hand  frankly.  "  Good  night,  Florian,"  she  said,  in  a  very 
decided  tone.  "  Let  me  urge  upon  you  to  be  content  with 
your  chambers  in  Pimlico.  You're  a  delightful  and  always 
most  amusing  friend ;  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  make  your 
friendship  impossible  for  me.  I  like  you  very  much,  in  your 
own  sort  of  way;  but  if  ever  you  re-open  that  subject 
again,  .  .  well,  I'm  afraid  I  could  give  you  no  further 
opportunity  of  admiring  your  own  handicraft  in  this  pretty 
litde  house  of  mine.  That's  why  I  say  good-night  to  you 
now  so  plainly.  It's  best  to  be  plain — best  to  understand 
one  another,  once  for  all,  and  for  ever." 

Two  minutes  later,  a  dejected  creature  named  Florian 


202 


LINNET 


Wood  found  himself  walking  disconsolate,  with  his  um- 
brella up,  on  the  sloppy  wet  flags  of  ill-lighted  Sloane 
Street.  He  had  sustained  a  loss  of  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  on  a  turn  of  fortune's  wheel,  at  an  inauspi- 
cious moment.  And  Rue,  with  her  face  in  her  hands  by  the 
fire,  was  saying  to  herself  with  many  tears  and  sighs  that, 
Linnet  or  no  Linnet,  she  never  would  and  never  could  love 
anyone  in  the  world  except  that  dear  Will  Deverill. 


illil! 


;T,  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


A   WOMAN  S   HEART 


The  papers  next  morning,  with  one  accord,  were  al- 
most unanimous  in  their  praise  of  Honeysuckle.  Will's 
operetta  didn't  set  the  Thames  on  fire,  to  be  sure — a  first 
work  seldom  does — b"t  it  secured  such  an  amount  of 
modest  success  as  decided  him  to  change  his  plans  largely 
for  the  future.  It  was  certain,  now,  that  he  might  take 
himself  seriously  as  a  musical  purveyor.  So  he  began  to 
drop  off  to  some  extent  from  the  hack  work  of  journalism, 
and  devote  his  energies  in  earnest  to  his  new  task  In  life 
as  a  playwright  and  composer.  Rue  had  nothing  to  pay 
for  her  guarantee  of  Honeysuckle;  on  the  contrary.  Will 
received  a  very  solid  sum  for  his  royalties  on  the  run 
through  the  remainder  of  that  season.  He  never  knew, 
indeed,  how  much  he  had  been  indebted  to  the  pretty 
American's  not  wholly  isinterested  act  of  kindness;  for 
Mr.  Blades  kept  his  word ;  and,  in  spite  of  what  he  said, 
Rue's  timely  intervention  had  decided  him  not  a  little  in 
accepting  that  first  piece  by  an  unknown  author. 

Thus,  during  the  next  few  years,  as  things  turned  out, 
Will's  position  and  prospects  improved  very  rapidly.  He 
was  regarded  as  one  of  our  most  rising  composers ;  critics 
spoke  of  him  as  the  sole  representative  and  restorer  of  the 
serious  English  poetical  opera.  Monetary  troubles  no 
longer  oppressed  his  soul ;  he  had  leisure  to  write — and  to 
write,  if  he  would,  the  thing  that  ple.ased  him.  His  posi- 
tion was  secured — so  much  so,  indeed,  that  judicious 
mammas  gave  him  frequent  invitations  to  their  gayest  At 
Homes  and  garden  parties.  But  he  successfully  avoided 
all  snares  so  set  for  him.  Many  people  expressed  no  little 
surprise  that  so  nice  a  young  man — and  a  poet  to  boot — 
with  a  position  like  his,  and  such  excellent  Principles, 
should  refrain  from  marriage.  Society  expects  that  every 
man  will  do  his  duty ;  it  intends  him  to  marry  as  soon  as 

203 


204 


LINNET 


Iili!!liilll1' 


iillli 


he  has  means  to  relieve  it  becomingly  of  one  among  its 
many  superfluous  daughters.  But,  in  spite  of  Society, 
Will  still  remained  single,  and  met  all  the  casual  feelers 
of  interested  acquaintances  as  to  the  reasons  which  in- 
duced him  so  to  shirk  his  duty  as  a  British  citizen  with 
a  quiet  smile  of  self-contained  resolution. 

Rue  came  to  London  now  for  each  succeeding  season. 
Will  was  much  at  her  house,  and  a  very  real  friendship 
existed  between  them.  Busybodies  wondered,  indeed, 
that  those  two  young  people,  who  were  so  thick  together, 
didn't  stop  scandal's  mouth  by  marrying  as  they  ought  to 
do.  The  busybodies  could  see  no  just  cause  or  impedi- 
ment why  they  should  not  at  once  be  joined  together  in 
holy  matrimony.  The  young  woman  was  rich ;  the  young 
man  was  a  genius.  She  was  "  mad  for  him,"  every  one 
said,  in  every  one's  usual  exaggerated  phraseology;  and 
as  for  him,  though  perhaps  he  wasn't  quite  so  wildly  in 
love,  yet  he  liked  her  so  well,  and  was  so  often  in  her  com- 
pany, that  it  would  surely  be  better  to  avoid  whispers  at 
once  by  marrying  her  offhand,  like  the  earl  in  the  **  Bab 
Ballads,"  "  quite  reg'lar,  at  St.  George's !  "  The  busy- 
bodies  were  surprised  he  didn't  see  it  so  himself ;  it  really 
was  almost  somebody's  duty,  they  thought,  to  suggest  the 
idea  to  him.  But  perhaps  Mrs.  Palmer's  money  was 
strictly  tied  up;  in  which  case,  of  course — Society  broke 
off  short. and  shrugged  its  sapient  shoulders. 

To  some  extent,  in  fact,  Will  agreed  with  them  him- 
self. He  almost  fancied  he  would  have  proposed  to  Rue 
— if  he  wasn't  so  fond  of  her.  As  he  sat  with  her  one 
evening  by  the  drawing-room  fire  at  Hans  Place,  before 
the  lights  were  turned  on,  during  blind-man's  holiday,  he 
said  to  her  suddenly,  after  a  long,  deep  pause,  "  I  daresay. 
Rue,  you  sometimes  wonder  why  it  is  I've  never  tried  to 
ask  you  to  marry  me." 

Rue  gave  a  little  start  of  half-tremulous  surprise.  He 
could  see  how  the  color  mounted  fast  to  her  cheek  by  the 
glow  of  the  firelight.  She  gave  a  faint  gasp  as  she  an- 
swered candidly,  with  American  frankness,  "  Well,  to  tell 
you  the  truth.  Will,  I've  fancied  once  or  twice  you  were 
just  going  to  do  it." 

Will  looked  across  at  her  kindly.  She  was  very  charm- 
ing.    "  I  won't  be  cruel  enough,  Rue,"  he  said,  leaning 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART 


205 


forward  to  her  like  a  brother^  "  to  ask  you  what  answer 
you  meant  to  give,  if  I'd  done  as  you  expected.  I  hope 
you  won't  think  nie  conceited  if  I  say  I  half  believe  I 
know  it  already.  And  that's  just  why  I  want  to  tell  you 
now  the  reason  that  has  prevented  me  from  ever  asking 
you.  If  your  nature  were  a  little  less  deep,  and  a  little  less 
womanly  than  it  really  is,  I  might  have  asked  you  long 
ago.  But,  Rue,  you  know — 1  feel  sure  you  know — how 
deeply  I  loved  that  other  woman.  I  love  her  still,  and  I 
won't  pretend  to  deny  it.  I've  waited  and  wondered 
whether  in  time  her  image  might  fade  out  of  my  heart; 
but  it  never  has  faded.  She's  another  man's  wife,  and 
probably  I  shall  never  see  her  again ;  yet  I  love  her  as 
dearly  and  regret  her  as  much  as  I  did  on  the  day  when 
I  first  heard  she'd  thrown  herself  away  for  life  upon 
Andreas  Hausberger." 

*'  I've  felt  sure  you  did,"  Rue  answered,  with  downcast 
eyes.  "I've  felt  it.  Will — and  for  that  very  reason,  I've 
wondered  all  the  less  you  didn't  ask  me." 

Will  looked  across  at  her  again.  She  was  beautiful  as 
she  sat  there  with  the  glow  of  the  fire  on  her  pensive  fea- 
tures. "  Dear  Rue,"  he  said,  softly,  "  you  and  I  are  no 
mere  children.  We  know  our  own  minds.  We're  grown 
man  and  woman.  We  can  venture  to  talk  freely  to  one 
another  of  these  things,  without  the  foolish,  childish  non- 
sense of  false  shame  or  false  blushes.  In  spite  of  Linnet, 
I'd  ha  'e  asked  you  long  ago  to  be  my  wife — if  I  hadn't 
respected  and  admired  you  so  deeply.  But  I  feel  you're 
not  a  woman  who  could  ever  put  up  with  half  a  man's 
heart,  or  half  a  man's  confidence;  and  half  my  heart  is 
all  I  could  give  you.  I  love  Linnet  still,  and  I  shall 
always  love  her.  I  never  shall  cease  to  feel  an  undying 
regret  that  /  didn't  marry  her,  instead  of  that  fellow  Haus- 
berger. Now,  there  are  women  not  a  few  I  might  still 
have  asked  to  marry  me,  in  spite  of  that  regret ;  but  you're 
not  one  of  them.  I  love  you  better  than  I  ever  loved  any- 
one else  on  this  earth — anyone  else,  but  Linnet;  and, 
therefore,  I  don't  ask  you  to  marry  a  man  who  could  give 
you  a  second  place  only  in  his  affections." 

The  tears  stood  dim  in  Rue's  swimming  eyes.  She 
looked  at  him  steadily,  and  let  them  trickle  one  by  one 
down  her  cheeks,  unheeded.    "  Dear  Will,"  she  answered 


206 


LINNET 


him  back,  with  equal  frankness,  '*  it  was  kind  of  you  to 
speak,  and  I'm  glad  you've  spoken.  It'll  make  our  re- 
lations all  the  easier  In  luture!  I  guessed  how  you  felt; 
I  guessed  it  all  long  ago;  but  I'm  glad,  all  the  same,  to 
have  heard  from  your  own  lips  the  actual  facts  of  it.  And, 
Will,  you  quite  rightly  interpret  my  feelings.  I'm  an 
American  at  hfeart,  and,  you  know,  we  Americans  are 
very  exacting  in  matters  of  affection.  Some  savage  strain 
of  monopoly  exists  in  us  still.  I  can't  help  it.  I  acknowl- 
edge it.  I  won't  deny  to  you  " — and  she  stretched  out  her 
hand  quite  frankly,  and  let  him  hold  it  in  his  own  for  a 
few  brief  moments — "  I  won't  deny  that  I'm  very  fond 
indeed  of  you.  If  you  could  have  given  me  your  whole 
heart,  I  would  have  accepted  it  gratefully.  I  admired  you 
with  a  deep  admiration  from  the  v^^ry  first  day  I  ever  met 
you.  I  loved  you  from  the  time  we  sat  together  on  the 
Lanser  Kopf  that  afternoon  at  Innsbruck.  I'm  not 
ashamed  to  tell  you  so — nay,  rather,  dear,  I'm  proud  of  it ; 
for,  Will,  you're  a  man  any  woman  might  be  proud  to 
waste  her  love  upon.  But  much  as  I  love  you,  much  as  I 
admire  you,  I  never  could  accept  you  if  you  feel  like  that. 
As  an  American  born,  with  my  monopolist  instincts,  I 
must  have  a  whole  man  to  myself  all  alone — or  I  won't 
have  any  of  him." 

"  I  knew  it,"  Will  answered,  caressing  her  hand  with 
his  fingers,  and  bending  over  it  chivalrously.  "  And 
that's  why  I  never  have  ventured  to  ask  you.  But  I've 
loved  you  all  the  same.  Rue — as  one  loves  the  woman 
who  stands  best  of  all  .  .  .  save  one  ...  in  one's 
affections." 

Rue  withdrew  her  hand  gently.  Her  tears  were  falling 
faster.  "  Well,  now,"  she  said,  with  a  quiet  sigh,  "  we  can 
be  friends  in  future — all  the  better,  I  hope,  for  this  little 
explanation.  I'm  rich,  of  course,  Will ;  and  a  great  many 
men,  circumstanced  as  you  were,  would  have  been  glad  to 
marry  me  for  the  sake  of  my  money.  I  liked  you  all  the 
more,  I  like  you  the  more  to-day,  in  that  that  has  never 
counted  for  one  moment  with  you.  If  you'd  been  a 
mercenary  man,  you'd  have  dissembled  and  pretended: 
you  need  never  have  let  me  see  how  much  you  loved  that 
girl ;  or,  if  you  had,  you  might  have  led  me  to  suppose  you 
had  gradually  forgotten  her.    .    .    .    Dear  friend  " — and 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART 


207 


she  turned  to  him  once  more  with  a  sudden  burst  of  un- 
controllable feeling — "  we  are  man  and  woman,  as  you 
say,  not  boy  and  girl ;  so  why  should  I  be  ashamed  to  open 
my  whole  heart  to  you?  You've  told  me  the  truth,  like 
a  man ;  why  shouldn't  I  tell  you  the  truth,  in  return,  like 
a  woman?  I  will.  I  can't  help  it.  I  have  waited  and 
watched  and  thought  often  to  myself,  *  In  time,  he  must 
surely,  surely  get  over  it.  He  must  cease  to  love  her ;  he 
can  never  really  have  loved  her  so  much  as  he  imagines ; 
he  must  turn  at  last  to  me,  when  he  forgets  all  about  her.* 
So  I  waited  and  watched,  and,  month  after  month,  I 
thought  at  last  you  must  surely  begin  to  forget  her.  But, 
month  after  month,  I  have  seen  you  loved  her  still;  and 
while  you  loved  her  still,  .  .  .  Will,  Will,  dear  Will, 
I  didn't  want  you  to  ask  me." 

Will  seized  her  hand  once  more,  and  kissed  it  tenderly. 
"  Oh,  how  good  you  are !  "  he  cried,  in  a  very  melting 
voice.  "  Rue,  do  you  know,  when  you  talk  like  that,  you 
make  me  love  you !  " 

''  But  not  better  than  hcrf  "  Rue  murmured,  softly. 

Will  couldn't  lie  to  her.  "  No ;  not  better  than  her," 
he  answered  slowly,  in  a  very  low  voice.  "If  it  were 
otherwise,  I'd  have  asked  you  this  very  minute,  dear 
sister." 

Rue  rose  and  faced  him.  The  firelight  llickered  red  on 
her  soft  white  dress ;  he  could  see  by  its  bright  glow  the 
tears  still  trickling  slow  down  those  full  round  cheeks  of 
hers.  "  After  this,  Will,  I  must  go,"  she  said.  "  Don't 
come  again  to-morrow.  Next  week,  you  may  call  if  you 
like,  some  afternoon,  casually;  but  for  Heaven's  sake, 
please,  don't  refer  to  this  interview.  I  have  only  one  thing 
to  say,  and  when  I've  said  it,  I  must  run  from  you.  Re- 
member, I'm  a  woman ;  my  pride  is  fighting  hard  against 
my  love  to-night — and,  if  I  let  love  win,  I  should  for  ever 
despise  myself.  As  long  as  you  live,  don't  speak  to  me 
of  this  matter  again,  unless  you  speak  to  say,  *  Rue,  Rue, 
I've  forgotten  her.'  If  ever  that  day  comes — "  and  she 
flushed  rosy  red — "  you  have  my  answer  already ;  you 
know  you  can  claim  me." 

She  moved  over  to  the  door,  with  hurried  step  and 
beating  heart,  hardly  able  to  trust  herself.  With  a  true 
sense  of  delicacy,  Will  abstained  from  opening  it.     He 


2o8 


LINNET 


stood  on  the  hearth-rug,  irresolute,  and  just  watched  her 
depart;  he  felt,  in  the  circumstances  that  course  was  the 
more  respectful. 

With  her  fingers  on  the  handle.  Rue  paused,  and  looked 
round  again.  *'  I  wouldn't  have  said  so  much,  even  now," 
she  faltered,  "  if  it  weren't  for  this — that  I  feel  you're  the 
one  man  I've  ever  met  in  my  life  to  whom  the  question  of 
my  money  was  as  dust  in  the  balance.  You  speak  the 
truth,  and  I  know  I  can  trust  you.  If  ever  you  can  say  to 
me,  *  I  love  you  better  now,  Rue,  than  I  ever  loved  any- 
one,' I  am  yours :  then  take  me !  But  till  that  day  comes, 
if  come  it  ever  does,  let  us  only  be  friends.  Never  speak 
to  me  again,  for  Heaven's  sake,  never  speak,  as  we  have 
spoken  this  evening." 

She  opened  the  door  and  passed  out,  all  tremulous. 
Will  waited  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a  throbbing  heart, 
went  slowly  down  the  stairs.  As  he  did  so  something 
Tioist  fell  suddenly  on  his  hand  that  grasped  the  banister. 
To  his  immense  surprise,  he  found  it  was  a  tear  from  his 
own  eyelids — for  he  too  was  crying.  Poet  that  he  was, 
he  felt  more  than  half-inclined,  while  he  stood  there,  hesi- 
tating, to  rush  after  her  as  she  went,  and  seize  her  in  his 
strong  arms,  and  cover  her  with  warm  kisses  that  very 
minute.  F'or  a  poet  is  a  man  even  more  than  the  rest  of 
us.  But  could  he  tell  her  with  truth  he  had  quite  for- 
gotten Linnet  ?  Oh  no,  no,  no ;  Linnet's  image  on  his  heart 
remained  graven,  even  then,  quite  as  deeply  as  ever.  We 
men  are  built  so. 


laiiiii 


5: 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


AULD  LANG  SYNE 


A  WEEK  or  two  later,  one  bright  spring  afternoon,  Will 
was  strolling  by  himself  down  the  sunny  side  of  Bond 
Street.  All  the  world  was  there — for  the  world  was  in 
town — and  the  pavements  were  crowded.  But  Will 
moved  through  the  stream  of  well-dressed  dawdlers,  see- 
ing and  hearing  little.  In  the  midst  of  all  that  idle 
throng,  his  head  was  full  of  melodies ;  he  was  working  up 
rhymes  to  ready-made  tunes,  undisturbed  by  the  hubbub 
and  din  of  London..  Of  a  sudden,  somebody  stopped 
and  stood  straight  in  front  of  him.  "  Mr.  Deverill,  I  be- 
lieve ! "  a  tuneful  voice  said,  brusquely.  Will's  eyes  re- 
turned at  once  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  saw  standing 
before  them — a  tall  young  man,  of  somewhat  defiant 
aspect,  dressed  in  the  black  frock  coat  and  shiny  silk  hat 
of  Metropolitan  respectability. 

Will  paused,  and  surveyed  him.  He  was  a  good-look- 
ing young  man,  with  much  swagger  in  his  air,  and  a 
black  moustache  on  his  upper  lip;  but  his  face  seemed 
somehow  strangely  familiar  to  Will,  while  his  voice  stirred 
at  once  some  latent  chord  in  the  dim  depths  of  his  memory. 
But  he  wasn't  one  of  Will's  fine  London  acquaintances — 
the  poet  saw  that  much  at  once  by  the  cheap  pretentious- 
ness of  his  coat  and  hat,  the  flaring  blue  of  his  made-up 
silk  tie,  the  obtrusive  glitter  of  the  false  diamond  pin 
which  adorned  its  center.  The  stranger's  get-up,  indeed, 
was  redolent  of  the  music  halls.  Yet  he  was  handsome 
for  all  that,  with  a  certain  strange  air  of  native  distinc- 
tion, not  wholly  concealed  by  the  vulgar  tone  of  his  cos- 
tume and  his  solicitous  jewellery.  Will  held  out  his  hand 
with  that  dubitative  air  which  we  all  of  us  display  in 
the  first  moment  of  uncertainty  towards  half-recognized 
acquaintances. 

"  I  see  you  have  forgotten  me,  zen,"  the  stranger  said, 


210 


LINNET 


i\  \ 


in  very  decent  English,  drawing  himself  up  with  great 
dignity,  and  twirling  his  black  moustache  fjrily  between 
one  thumb  and  forefinger.  "  It  is  long,  to  be  sure,  since 
we  met  in  ze  Tyrol.  And  I  have  changed  much  since  zen, 
no  doubt:  I  have  mixed  with  ze  world;  I  have  grown 
what  you  call  in  English  cosmopolitan.  But  I  see  it 
comes  back ;  I  see  you  remember  m'"  now ;  my  voice  re- 
calls it  to  you." 

Will  grasped  his  hand  more  cordially.  *'  Yes,  perfectly, 
when  you  speak,"  he  said ;  "  though  you  are  very  much 
changed  indeed,  as  you  say ;  but  I  see  you're  Franz  Lind- 
ner." 

"  Yes ;  I'm  Mr.  Franz  Lindner,"  the  stranger  replied, 
half-imperceptibly  correcting  him — for  it  was  indeed  the 
Robbler.  Will  scrmned  him  from  head  to  foot,  and  took 
him  in  at  a  glance.  He  was  a  fiery  young  man  still,  and 
his  mien,  as  of  old,  was  part  fierce,  part  saucy.  But,  oh, 
what  a  difference  tl  e  change  of  dress  had  made  in  him! 
No  conical  hat,  no  blackcock's  feather  now,  whether 
"  turned  "  or  otherwise.  In  his  Tyrolese  costume,  with 
his  rifle  in  his  hand,  and  his  cartridges  at  his  side,  Franz 
Lindner  had  looked  and  moved  of  yore  a  typical  Alpine 
jdger.  But,  in  black  frock-coat  and  shiny  tall  hat,  stroll- 
ing like  a  civilized  snob  that  he  was  down  the  flags  of 
Bond  Street,  all  the  romance  and  poetry  had  faded  utterly 
out  of  him.  The  glamor  was  gone.  He  looked  and 
moved  for  all  the  world  to-day  like  any  other  young  man 
of  the  baser  mock-swell  sort,  dressed  up  in  his  Sunday 
best  to  lounge  and  ogle  and  bandy  vulgar  chaff  in  Bur- 
lington Arcade  with  his  predestined  companions. 

"  Why,  what  has  brought  you  to  London,  then  ? "  Will 
asked,  much  astonished. 

"  Art,  art,"  the  transfigured  Robbler  responded,  off- 
hand, with  inimitable  swagger.  "  You  must  surely  zen 
know  my  stage  name,  zough  you  don't  seem  to  have  heard 
me."  He  pulled  out  a  printed  card,  and  handed  it  to  Will 
with  a  flourish.  "  I  am  ze  Signor  Francesco,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  all  ze  world  is  talking  about."  And  he  threw 
back  his  chin  and  cocked  his  head  on  one  side,  looking, 
even  as  he  spoke,  more  pretentious  than  ever. 

"  Oh,  indeed ! "  Will  answered  with  a  bewildered  little 


AULD  LANG  SYNE 


211 


laugh.  But  it  was  the  non-committing  "  Oh,  indeed ! " 
of  mere  polite  acquiescence. 

Franz  Lindner  caught  the  tinge  of  implied  non-recog- 
nition in  the  Englishman's  voice,  and  hastened  to  add,  as 
if  parenthetically,  "  I  perform  at  ze  Pavilion." 

"  What,  the  London  Pavilion  at  the  top  of  the  Hay- 
market  ?  "  Will  exclaimed,  beginning  to  realize. 

Franz  Lindner  looked  hurt.  "  I've  seen  your  name 
often  enough,"  he  said,  asserting  himself  still  more  vigor- 
ously as  Will  seemed  to  know  less  of  him ;  "  and  I  sought, 
as  you  were  a  pillar  of  ze  profession  yourself,  you  would 
certainly  have  seen  mine,  if  it  were  only  on  ze  posters. 
I'm  advertised  largely.  All  London  rings  wis  me.  Ze 
County  Council  has  even  taken  notice  of  me.  I'm  a  public 
character!  And  I  have  had  ze  intention  more  zan  once 
of  looking  you  up,  as  also  Mr.  Florian.  But  zere,  here  in 
London  our  time  is  so  occupied !  You  and  I,  who  are 
public  men,  wis  professional  engagements — we  are  ever 
overtaxed ;  we  know  not  how  to  find  ze  leisure  or  ze  space 
for  ze  claims  of  friendship." 

"  Have  you  been  long  in  London?  "  Will  asked,  turning 
down  with  him  towards  Piccadilly. 

"  More  zan  two  years  now,"  the  Robbler  answered 
briskly,  lounging  on  at  his  own  pace,  with  a  cane  in  his 
gloved  hand,  and  staring  hard,  as  he  passed,  at  every 
pretty  girl  he  saw  on  foot  or  in  the  carriages.  "  After  I 
leave  you  at  Meran,  I  worked  my  way  slowly — singing, 
singing,  ever  singing — by  degrees  to  Paris.  But  Paris 
didn't  suit  me ;  zere  is  too  much  blague  zere ;  zey  go  in  for 
buffoons;  zey  laugh  at  a  man  of  modest  merit.  I  hate 
blague  myself.  So  zen  I  came  on  pretty  soon  to  London. 
At  first  I  had  to  sing  in  common  low  music  halls — sous 
side  and  zat ;  but  talent,  talent  is  sure  to  make  its  way  in 
ze  end.  I  rose  very  quick,  and  now — I  am  at  ze  head  of 
my  branch  of  ze  profession." 

"You  sing,  of  course?"  Will  interposed,  restraining  a 
smile  at  the  Robbler's  delicious  self-satisfaction.  The 
man  himself  was  the  very  same  as  ever,  to  be  sure;  but 
'twas  strange  what  a  difference  mere  externals  had  made 
in  him ! 

"  Yes ;  I  sing,  and  sometimes,  too,  I  play  ze  zither.    But 


iii!iiil'!:i:';i 


212 


LINNET 


mostly,  I  sing.  It  surprises  me,  indeed,  you  should  not 
have  heard  of  my  singing." 

"  And  what's  the  particular  branch  of  which  you're  the 
acknowledged  head  ? "  Will  asked,  still  an^used  at  the 
Tyroler's  complacency. 

Franz  Lindner  held  his  head  very  high  in  the  air,  and 
gave  a  twirl  to  his  cane,  as  he  answered,  with  much  im- 
portance, "  My  line  is  ze  Mammoss  Continental  Comique ; 
ze  serio-comic  foreigner;  zey  call  me  Frenchy.  I  sing  ze 
well-known  songs  in  broken  English  zat  are  in  every- 
body's mofus — *  Mossoo  Robert  is  my  name,'  or  '  Lay- 
ces-terre  Squarre,'  or  *  Ze  leetle  black  dawg,'  or  *  Zat 
lohvely  Matilda.'  I  wonder  you  have  not  heard  of  me. 
*  Mossoo  Robert '  is  all  ze  talk  of  London.  Frank  Wilkins 
writes  songs  especially  for  my  voice.  If  you  look  in  ze 
music  shops,  you  will  see  on  ze  covers,  *  Written  expressly 
for  Signor  Francesco.'  Signor  Francesco — zat's  me !  " 
And  he  tapped  his  breast,  and  swelled  himself  visibly. 

"  I  remember  to  have  seen  the  name,  I  think,"  Will 
answered,  with  a  slight  internal  shudder,  well  pleased, 
none  the  less,  to  give  some  tardy  salve  to  his  companion's 
wounded  vanity.  "  I'm  glad  you've  got  on,  and  delighted 
to  find  you  have  such  kindly  recollections  of  me." 

Franz  Lindner  laughed.  "  Oh,  zat !  "  he  said,  snappin^- 
his  fingers  in  the  air  very  jauntily.  "  I  was  a  hot  young 
man  zen;  I  knew  little  of  ze  world.  You  mustn't  sink 
much  of  what  a  young  man  did  in  ze  days  before  he  knew 
how  Society  is  managed.  I  owe  you  no  grudge.  We 
were  bose  of  us  younger.  Besides,  our  friend  Hausberger 
has  wiped  out  our  old  scores.  I  have  transferred  to  him, 
entire,  all  my  feelings  in  ze  matter." 

"  That's  well,"  Will  replied,  anxious  indeed  to  learn 
whether  the  Tyroler  had  heard  anything  afresh  of  late 
years  about  Linnet.  "  And  Hausberger  himself  ?  What 
of  him  .  .  .  and  his  wife  ?  Have  you  ever  knocked  up 
against  them  ?  " 

The  Robbler's  brow  gathered;  his  hand  clenched  his 
cane  hard.  It  was  clear  civilization  and  cosmopolitanism, 
however  neatly  veneered,  hadn't  made  much  serious 
change  in  his  underlying  nature.  "  Zat  rascal !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, bringing  his  stick  down  on  the  pavement  with  a 
noisy  little  thud ;  "  zat  rogue ;  zat  liar !     If  ever  I  had 


ir  ' 


\ULD  LANG  SYNE 


213 


come  across  him,  it  would  be  bad  for  his  head.  Sousand 
devils,  what  a  man !  .  .  .  Here,  we're  close  to  ze  Cri ; 
will  you  come  and  have  a  drink?  We  can  talk  zis  over 
afterward.  I  like  to  offer  somesing  to  a  friend  new  dis- 
covered." 

"  It's  not  much  in  my  line,"  Will  answered,  smiling ; 
"  but  still,  for  old  times'  sake,  I'll  go  in  and  have  a  glass 
with  you."  To  say  the  truth,  he  was  so  eager  to  find  out 
what  Franz  might  have  to  communicate  that  he  stretched 
a  point  for  once,  and  broke  through  his  otherwise  in- 
variable rule  never  to  drink  anything  anywhere  except  at 
meal  times. 

Franz  stalked  along  Piccadilly,  and  strode  airily  into 
the  Criterion  like  one  who  knew  his  way  well  about  the 
London  restaurants.  "  What'll  you  take  ?  "  he  asked  of 
Will  in  an  assured  tone,  which  showed  the  question  in 
English  was  a  very  familiar  one  to  him. 

"  Whatever  you  take  yourself,"  Will  answered,  much 
amused,  for  the  Tyroler  wj  s  far  more  at  home  than  him- 
self in  a  London  bar,  and  far  more  at  his  ease  with  the 
London  barmaid. 

"  Two  half  porters  and  two  small  Scotch,  miss,"  the 
Robbler  cried  briskly  to  the  tousely-haired  young  woman 
who  attended  to  his  call.  "  You'll  find  it  a  very  good 
mixture  for  zis  time  of  day,  Mr.  Deverill.  I  always  take 
it  myself.    It  softens  ze  organ." 

The  young  woman  fulfilled  the  order  with  unwonted 
alacrity — Franz  was  a  favorite  at  the  bar,  and  gave  hib 
commands  leaning  across  it  with  the  arch  smile  of  an 
habitue — and  Will  then  discovered  that  the  mixture  in 
question  consisted  of  a  glass  of  Dublin  stout,  well  forti- 
fied with  a  thimbleful  of  Highland  whisky.  He  also  ob- 
served, what  he  had  not  at  first  sight  noticed,  that  Franz 
Lindner's  face,  somewhat  redder  than  of  old,  bore  evi- 
dence, perhaps,  of  too  frequent  efforts  for  the  softening  of 
the  organ.    Franz  nodded  to  the  barmaid. 

"  Here's  our  meeting !  "  he  said  to  Will,  "  Shall  we 
step  a  little  aside  here  ?    We  can  talk  wisout  overhearing." 

They  drew  aside  to  a  round  table  for  their  unfinished 
gfossip.  "  You're  not  in  town  often,  I  suppose,"  the 
Tvrolcr  bcgpn,  scanning  his  companion  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  critical  scrutiny. 


li.l,;;l,a;i.I!!i!' 


214 


LINNET 


:,H:i:..ir 


"  Why,  I  live  here,"  V/ill  answered,  taken  aback — "  in 
Craven  Street,  Strand;  I've  always  lived  here." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  the  Robbler  responded,  with  a  some- 
what superior  air ;  "I  sought  from  your  costume  you'd 
just  come  up  from  ze  country." 

Will  smiled  good-humoredly.  He  was  wearing,  in 
point  of  fact,  a  soft  slouch  hat  and  a  dusty  brown  suit  of 
somewhat  poetical  cut,  which  contrasted  in  more  ways 
than  one  with  the  music-hall  singer's  too  elaborate  parody 
of  the  glossy  silk  chimney-pot  and  regulation  frock-coat 
of  the  orthodox  Belgravian. 

Then  Franz  came  back  at  a  bound  to  the  subject  he  had 
quitted  on  the  flags  of  Piccadilly.  He  explained,  with 
much  circumlocution  and  many  needless  expletives,  how 
he  had  heard  from  time  to  time,  through  common  friends 
at  St.  Valentin,  that  Andreas  Hausberger  and  his  wife  had 
fluctuate!  of  late  years  between  summer  at  Munich,  Leip- 
zig, Stuttgart,  and  winter  at  Milan,  Florence,  Naples, 
Venice.  Linnet  got  on  with  him  very  well — oh,  very  well 
indeed — yes;  Linnet,  you  know,  was  just  the  sort  of  girl 
to  get  on  very  well  with  pretty  nearly  anyone.  No  doubt 
by  this  time  she'd  settled  down  into  tolerably  amicably  re- 
lations with  Andreas  Hausberger!  Any  children?  Oh 
dear,  no ;  Hausberger'd  take  care  of  that ;  a  public  singer's 
time  is  far  too  valuable  to  be  wasted  on  the  troubles  of  a 
growing  young  family.  Had  she  come  out  yet?  Well, 
yes ;  that  is  to  say,  from  time  to  time  she'd  sung  at  concerts 
in  Munich,  Florence,  and  elsewhere.  Successfully?  Of 
course ;  she'd  a  very  good  voice,  as  voices  go,  for  her  sort, 
and  training  was  sure  to  do  something  at  least  for  it. 
Franz  had  heard  rumors  she  was  engaged  next  season  for 
San  Carlo  at  Naples ;  you  might  count  upon  Hausberger's 
doing  his  very  best,  now  he'd  invested  his  savings  in  pre- 
paring her  for  the  stage,  to  make  money  out  of  his  bargain. 

Through  all  Franz  said,  however,  there  ran  still,  as  of 
yore,  one  constant  thread  of  undying  hatred  to  the  man 
who  had  outwitted  him  at  Meran  and  St  Valentin. 
"Then  you  haven't  forgiven  him  yet?"  Will  inqui'ed  at 
last,  after  one  such  spiteful  allusion  to  Andreas's  mean- 
ness. 

The  Robbler's  hand  moved  instinctively  of  itself  to  his 


AULD  LANG  SYNE 


215 


left  breast  pocket.  He  had  changed  his  coat,  but  not  his 
customs.  "  I  carry  it  here  still/'  he  answered,  with  the 
same  old  defiant  air,  just  defining  with  finger  and  thumb 
the  vague  outline  of  the  knife  that  bulged  between  them 
through  the  glossy  broadcloth.  "  It's  always  ready  for 
him.  Ze  day  I  meet  him — "  and  he  stopped  short  sud- 
denly, with  a  face  like  a  bulldog's. 

"  You  Tyrolers  have  long  memories,"  Will  answered, 
with  a  little  shudder.  "  It's  very  unfashionable,  you  know, 
to  stab  a  rival  in  London." 

Franz  showed  his  handsome  teeth.  "  Unfashionable  or 
not,"  he  replied,  with  a  shrug,  "  it  is  so  I  was  born;  it  is 
so  I  live  ever.  As  we  say  in  ze  song,  I  am  made  zat  way. 
I  cannot  help  it.  I  never  forget  an  injury.  .  .  .  Zough, 
mind  you,"  he  continued,  after  a  telling  little  pause,  during 
which  he  drove  many  times  an  imaginary  knife  into  an 
invisible  enemy,  **  it  isn't  so  much  now  zat  I  grudge  him 
Linnet.  Let  him  keep  his  fine  Frau.  Zere  are  better  girls 
in  ze  world,  you  and  I  have  found  out,  zan  Lina  Telser — 
to-day  Frau  Hausberger.  We  were  younger  zen ;  we  are 
men  of  ze  world  now ;  we  know  higher  sings,  I  sink,  zan  a 
Zillerthal  sennerin.  What  I  feel  wis  him  at  present  is  not 
so  much  zat  he  took  away  ze  girl,  as  zat  he  played  me  so 
mean  a  trick  to  take  her." 

Will  smiled  to  himself  in  silence.  How  strangely 
human  feelings  and  ideas  differ!  He  himself  had  never 
forgotten  the  beautiful  alp-girl  with  the  divine  voice;  in 
the  midst  of  London  drawing-rooms  he  never  ceased  to 
miss  her ;  while  Franz  Lindner  thought  he  had  left  Linnet 
far,  far  behind,  since  he  became  acquainted  with  those 
higher  and  nobler  types,  the  music-hall  stars  of  the  London 
Pavilion !  "  There's  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  people 
say ;  oh,  most  inept  of  proverbs !  surely  it's  easy  for  any- 
one to  accou  it  for  the  reasons  which  made  Linnet  appear 
so  different  now  in  Franz  Lindner's  eyes  and  in  her  Eng- 
lish poet's. 

But  before  Will  and  Franz  parted  at  the  Circus  that 
afternoon,  they  had  made  mutual  promises,  for  old  ac- 
quaintance' sake — Franz,  that  he  would  graciously  accept 
a  stall,  on  an  off-night,  at  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh's,  to  see 
Will's  new  piece.  The  Duchess  of  Modena;  and  Will  that 


2l6 


LINNET 


'-    !ii''v'!i!liii!l!it 


he  would  betake  himself  to  the  London  Pavilion  one  of 
these  next  few  evenings,  to  hear  Signora  Francesco,  alias 
the  Frenchy,  in  his  celebrated  and  universally  encored  im- 
personation of  Mossoo  Robert  in  Regent  Street. 


liiliii 


CHAPTER  XXVIIl 


SIGNORA     CASALMONTE 


Three  years  and  more  had  passed  since  Will's  visit  to 
the  Tyrol.  Events  had  moved  fast  for  his  fortunes  mean- 
while. He  was  a  well-known  man  now  in  theatrical  cir- 
cles. Florian  Wood  went  about,  indeed,  boasting  in  clubs 
and  drawing-rooms  that  'twas  he  who  had  discovered  and 
brought  out  Will  Deverill.  *'  It's  all  very  well  to  be  a 
poet,"  he  said,  "  and  it's  all  very  well  to  be  born  with  a 
head  full  of  rhymes  and  tunes,  of  crochets,  clefs,  and 
quavers ;  but  what's  the  use  of  all  that,  I  ask  you  my  dear 
fellow,  without  a  critic  to  push  you?  A  Critic  is  a  man 
with  a  fine  eye  for  potentialities.  Before  the  world  sees, 
he  sees ;  before  the  world  hears,  he  listens.  He  sits  by 
the  world's  wayside,  as  it  were,  with  open  eye  or  ear,  and 
catches  unawares  the  first  faint  lisping  notes  of  unde- 
veloped genius.  He  divines  in  the  bud  the  exquisite 
aroma  and  perfect  hue  of  the  full-blown  blossom.  Long 
ago,  I  said  to  Deverill,  *  You  have  the  power  w^ithin  you  to 
write  a  good  opera ! '  He  laughed  me  to  scorn ;  but  I 
said  to  him,  *  Try ! ' — and  the  outcome  was,  Honey- 
suckle. He  took  up  a  battered  fiddle  one  day  at  an  old  inn 
in  the  Zillerthal,  when  we  two  were  rusticating  on  the 
emerald  bosom  of  those  charming  unsophisticated  Ty- 
rolese  valleys ;  he  struck  a  few  notes  on  it  of  his  own  com- 
posing ;  and  I  said  to  him,  *  My  dear  Will,  Sullivan 
trembles  on  his  pedestal.'  At  the  time  he  treated  it  as  a 
mere  passing  joke;  but  I  made  him  persevere;  ahd  what 
was  the  result? — why,  those  exquisite  airs  which  found 
theT  way  before  long  to  the  sheep-runs  of  Australia,  and 
reso:tnded  from  lumberers'  camps  in  the  backwoods  of 
Canada!  The  Critic,  I  say,  is  the  true  prophet  and  sage 
of  our  modern  world ;  he  sees  what  is  to  be,  and  he  helps 
to  produce  it." 
But  whether  Florian  was  right  in  attributing  Will's  sue- 

217 


2l8 


LINNET 


i 

liii||||j|lj|iii 

:';i! 


*li 


jil. , 

lll'iiMi'.iiiii 

■  '  ■'■  '' '   'I'l 

iilliinii!!:;i;M'li 


IP 


r^   '' 


i!ii 


i  pill 

ii 


cess  to  himself  or  not,  it  is  certain,  at  least,  that  Will  was 
rapidly  successful.  The  world  recognized  in  him  a  certain 
genuine  poetical  vein  which  has  seldom  been  vouchsafed 
to  the  English  librettist;  it  recognized  in  him,  also,  a  cer- 
tain depth  and  intensity  of  musical  sense  which  has 
seldom  been  vouchsafed  to  the  English  dramatic  composer. 

One  afternoon  that  spring,  Will  returned  to  town  from 
a  visit  to  the  Provinces  in  connection  with  his  new  opera. 
The  Lady  of  Llandudno,  then  about  to  be  performed  in 
several  country  theaters  by  Mr.  D'Arcy  Clift's  operatic 
company.  He  drove  almost  straight  from  the  station  to 
Rue's.  Florian  was  there  in  great  form ;  and  Mr.  Joaquin 
Holmes,  the  Colorado  Seer,  had  dropped  in  for  afternoon 
tea  at  his  fair  disciple's.  In  spite  of  Will's  ridicule.  Rue 
continued  to  believe  in  Mr.  Holmes's  thought-reading  and 
other  manifestations.  For  the  Seer  had  added  by  this  time 
a  touch  of  spiritualism  to  the  general  attractions  of  his 
flagging  entertainments  at  the  Assyrian  Hall;  and  it  is  a 
mysterious  dispensation  of  Providence  that  wealthy 
Americans,  especially  widows,  fall  a  natural  prey  to  all 
forms  of  transcendentalism  or  spiritualistic  quackery.  It 
seems  to  be  one  of  the  strange  devices  which  Providence 
adopts  for  putting  excessive  or  monopolized  wealth  into 
circulation. 

"  Mr.  Holmes  wants  me  to  go  to  the  Harmony  to- 
night," Rue  said,  with  a  smile — "  you  know  what  it  is — 
the  new  Harmony  Theater.  He  says  there's  a  piece  com- 
ing out  there  this  evening  I  ought  to  see — a  pretty  new 
piece  by  an  American  composer.  You're  going  to  be 
crushed.  Will.  They've  got  a  fresh  tenor  there,  a  very 
good  man,  whom  Mr.  Holmes  thinks  a  deal  of.  I've  half 
a  mind  to  go;  will  you  join  our  party?  " 

"  You  ought  to  hear  it,"  the  Seer  remarked,  with  his 
oracular  air,  turning  to  Will,  and  looking  critical.  "  This 
new  tenor's  a  person  you  should  keep  your  eye  upon;  I 
heard  him  rehearse,  and  I  said  to  myself  at  once,  *  That 
fellow's  the  very  man  Mr.  Deverill  will  want  to  write  a 
first  part  for;  if  he  doesn't,  I'll  retire  at  once  from  the 
prophetic  business.'  He  has  a  magnificent  voice;  you 
should  get  Blades  to  secure  him  next  season  for  the  Duke 
of  Edinburgh's.  He's  worth  fifty  pounds  a  night,  if 
he's  worth  a  penny." 


SIGNORA  CASALMONTE 


219 


"Very  good  trade,  a  tenor's,"  Florian  mused  philo- 
sophically.    '•  I  often  regret  1  wasn't  brought  up  to  it." 

"  What's  his  name  ?  "  Will  asked  with  languid  interest, 
for  he  had  no  great  faith  in  the  Seer's  musical  ear  and 
critical  acumen. 

"  His  name  ?  •  Heaven  knows,"  the  Seer  answered, 
with  a  short  laugh;  "  but  he  calls  himself  Papadopoli — 
Signor  Romeo  Papadopoli." 

*'  There's  a  deal  in  a  name,  in  spite  of  that  vastly  over- 
rated man,  Shakespeare,"  Florian  murmured,  musingly. 
"  It's  my  belief,  if  the  late  lamented  Lord  Beaconsfield 
had  only  been  christened  Benjamin  Jacobs,  or  even  Benja- 
min Israels,  he  never  would  have  lived  to  be  Prime  Min- 
ister of  England.  But  as  Benjamin  Disraeli — ah,  what 
poetry,  what  mystery,  what  Oriental  depth,  what  Vene- 
tian suggestiveness !  And  Romeo's  good,  too;  Signor 
Romeo  Papadopoli!  Why,  'twas  of  Romeo  himself  the 
Bard  first  asked,  '  What's  in  a  name  ?  the  rose,*  et  cetera. 
And  in  the  fulness  of  time,  this  singer  man  crops  up  with 
that  very  name  to  confute  him.  '  Ah,  Romeo,  Romeo, 
wherefore  art  thou  Romeo  ? '  Why,  because  it  looks  so 
extremely  romantic  in  a  line  of  the  playbill,  and  helps  to 
attract  the  British  public  to  your  theater!  Papadopoh', 
indeed!  and  his  real  name's  Jenkins.  I  don't  doubt  it's 
Jenkins.  There's  a  Palazzo  Papadopoli  on  the  Grand 
Canal.  But  this  fellow  was  born,  you  may  take  your 
oath,  at  Haggerston  or  Stepney ! " 

"  Well,  your  own  name  has  floated  you  in  hfe,  at  any 
rate,"  Rue  put  in,  a  little  mischievously. 

Florian  gazed  at  her  hard — and  changed  the  subject 
abruptly.  "  And  there's  a  woman  in  the  troupe  who 
sings  well,  too,  I  am  told,"  he  interposed,  with  airy  grace 
— the  airy  grace  of  five  feet — turning  to  Joaquin  Holmes. 
"  I  haven't  heard  her  myself ;  I've  been  away  from  town 
— you  know  how  engaged  I  am — visits,  visits  in  the 
country — Lady  Barnes;  Lady  Ingleborough.  But  they 
sav  she  sings  well;  really,  Will,  you  ought  to  come  with 
us." 

"Y'^s;  she's  not  bad  in  her  way,"  the  Seer  admitted, 
with  a  stifled  yawn,  stroking  his  long  moustache,  and  as- 
suming the  air  of  a  connoisseur  in  female  voices.  "  She's 
got  a  fine  rich  organ,  a  little  untrained,  perhaps,  but  not 


220 


LINNET 


bad  for  a  debutante.  A  piquant  little  Italian;  Signora 
Carlotta  Casalmonte  she  calls  herself.  But  Papadopoli's 
the  man ;  you  should  come,  Mr.  Deverill ;  my  friend  Mr. 
Florian  has  secured  us  a  box;  I  dine  at  Mrs.  Palmer's, 
and  we  all  go  together  to  the  Harmony  afterwards." 

"  I  should  like  to  go,"  Will  replied  with  truth ;  for  he 
hated  to  leave  Rue  undefended  in  that  imposter's  clutches ; 
"  but,  unfortunately,  I've  invited  my  sister  and  her  hus- 
band to  dine  with  me  to-night  at  my  rooms  in  Craven 
Street." 

"  Well,  wire  to  them  at  once  to  come  on  and  dine  here 
instead,"  Rue  suggested,  with  American  expansiveness ; 
"  and  then  we  can  all  go  in  a  party  together — the  more  the 
merrier." 

Will  thought  not  badly  of  this  idea;  it  was  a  capital 
compromise:  the  more  so  as  he  had  asked  nobody  else  to 
meet  the  Sartorises,  and  a  family  tete-a-tete  with  Maud 
and  Arthur  wasn't  greatly  to  his  liking.  "  I'll  do  it," 
he  said,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  if  they're  at  home 
and  will  answer  me." 

Rtie  sent  out  a  servant  to  the  nearest  office  with  the 
telegram  at  once;  and,  in  due  time,  an  answer  arrived 
by  return  that  Arthur  and  Maud  would  be  happy  to  ac- 
cept Mrs.  Palmer's  very  kind  invitation  for  this  evening. 
It  was  most  properly  worded ;  Maud  was  nothing  if  not 
proper.  Her  husband  had  now  been  appointed  incumbent 
of  St.  Barnabas's,  Marylebone;  and  her  dignity  had  re- 
ceived an  immense  accession.  Indeed,  she  debated  for 
ten  minutes  with  dear  Arthur  whether  it  was  really  quite 
right  for  then  to  go  at  all  on  such  hasty  notice ;  and  she 
was  annc^yed  that  Will,  after  inviting  her  himself,  should 
have  ventured  to  put  her  off  with  a  vicarious  dinner- 
party. But  she  went  all  the  same,  partly  because  she 
thought  it  would  be  such  a  good  thing  for  Will,  "  and  for 
our  own  dear  boys,  Arthur,  if  Will  were  to  marry  that 
rich  bourgeoise  American,"  and  partly  because  she  re- 
membered it  would  give  her  such  an  excellent  opportunity 
of  displaying  her  pretty  new  turquoise-blue  dinner-dress 
among  the  best  company,  in  a  box  at  the  Harmony.  Be- 
sides, a  first  night  is  a  thing  never  to  be  despised  by  the 
wise  man  or  woman ;  it  looks  so  well  to  see  next  day  in  the 
society  papers,  "  Mrs.  Palmer's  box  contained,  amongst 


SIGNORA  CASALMONTE 


221 


Others,  Mr.  Florian  Wood,  Mr.  W.  Deverill,  his  sister, 
Mrs.  Sartoris,  and  her  husband,  the  incumbent  of  St. 
Barnabas's,  Marylebone." 

So,  at  half-past  seven,  Maud  Sartoris  sailed  in,  tur- 
quoise-blue and  all,  and,  holding  out  her  hand  with  a 
forgiving  smile,  murmured  gushingly  to  her  hostess, 
"  VVe  thought  it  so  friendly  of  you,  dear  Mrs.  Palmer, 
to  invite  us  like  that  at  a  moment's  notice,  .as  soon  as  you 
knew  we  were  engaged  to  Will,  and  that  Will  couldn't 
possibly  go  unless  he  took  us  with  him !  We  want  to  see 
this  new  piece  at  the  Harmony  so  much ;  a  first  night  to 
us  quiet  clerical  folks,  you  know,  is  alzcays  such  a  treat. 
We're  immensely  obliged  to  you." 

Dinner  went  oflf  well,  as  it  usually  did  where  Florian 
was  of  the  party.  To  give  Florian  his  due.  he  bubbled 
and  sparkled,  like  the  Apollinaris  spring,  with  unfailing 
effervescence.  That  evening,  too,  he  was  in  specially 
fine  form;  it  amused  him  to  hear  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes 
discourse  with  an  air  of  profound  conviction  on  his  own 
prophetic  art,  and  then  watch  him  glancing  acros?  the 
table  under  his  long  dark  eyelashes  to  see  between  whiles 
how  Florian  took  it.  The  follies  and  foibles  of  mankind 
were  nuts  to  Florian.  It  gave  the  epicurean  philosopher 
a  calm  sense  of  pleasure  in  his  own  superiority  to  see  Rue 
and  Arthur  Sartoris  drinking  in  open-mouthed  the  mys- 
terious hints  and  self-glorificatory  nonsense  of  the  man 
whom  he  knew  by  his  own  confession  to  be  a  cheat  and  a 
humbug.  Their  eyes  seldom  met ;  Joaquin  Holmes 
avoided  such  disconcerting  experiences ;  but  whenever 
they  did,  Florian's  were  Ijrimful  of  suppresses  amuse- 
ment, while  the  Seer's  had  a  furtive  hang-dog  air  as  of 
one  who  at  once  would  deprecate  exposure  and  beseech 
indulgence. 

After  dinner,  the  Seer  kept  them  laughing  so  long  at 
his  admirable  stories  of  the  Far  West  of  his  childhood 
(which  Arthur  Sartoris  received  with  the  conventional 
"  Ah  really,  now,  Mr.  Holmes ! "  of  forced  clerical  dis- 
approbation) that  they  were  barely  in  time  for  the  begin- 
ning of  the  opera.  As  they  entered,  the  tenor  held  pos- 
session of  the  stage.  Will  didn't  think  so  much  of  him; 
Florian,  his  head  on  one  side  in  a  critical  attitude,  ob- 
served oracularly,  at  the  end  of  his  first  song,  that  the 


f 


i'ilill 


222 


LINNET 


E)  il!ll!liliMi!!ll|i| 


Papadopoli  was  perhaps  not  wholly  without  capabilities. 
That's  the  sort  of  criticism  that  Florian  loved  best;  it 
enables  a  man  to  hedge  in  accordance  with  the  event.  If 
the  fellow  turns  oi't  well  in  the  near  future,  you  can  say 
you  declared  from  the  very  first  he  had  capabilities;  if 
the  public  doesn't  catch  on,  you  can  remark  with  justice 
that  he  hasn't  developed  what  little  promise  he  once 
showed,  and  that  from  the  beginning  you  never  felt  in- 
clined to  say  much  for  him. 

Presently,  from  the  rear  of  the  stage,  down  the  mimic 
rocks  that  formed  the  background  of  the  scenery,  a 
beautiful  woman,  entering  almost  unobseived,  sprang 
lightly  from  boulder  to  boulder  of  the  torrent  bed,  with 
the  true  elastic  step  of  a  mountain-bred  maiden.  She  had  a 
fine  ''ipe  figure,  very  lithe  and  vigorous-looking;  her  fea- 
tures were  full,  but  extremely  regular ;  her  mouth,  though 
large  and  somewhat  rich  in  the  lips,  was  yet  rosy  and  at- 
tractive. Eyes  full  of  fire,  and  a  rounded  throat,  with  a 
waxy  softness  of  outline  that  recalled  a  nightingale's, 
gave  point  to  her  beauty.  She  was  exquisitely  dressed 
in  a  pale  cream  bodice,  with  what  passes  on  the  stage 
for  a  peasant  kirtle,  and  round  her  rich  brown  neck  she 
wore  a  drooping  circlet  of  half-barbaric-looking  lancelikc 
red  coral  pendants.  Before  she  opened  her  mouth,  her 
mere  form  and  grace  of  movement  took  the  house  by  sur- 
prise. A  little  storm  of  applause  burst  spontaneous  at 
once  from  stalls,  boxes,  and  gallery.  The  singer  paused, 
and  curtsied.  She  looked  lovelier  still  as  she  flushed  up 
with  excitement.  Every  eye  in  the  house  was  in- 
stinctively fixed  upon  her. 

Will  had  been  gazing  round  the  boxes  as  the  actress 
entered,  to  see  what  friends  of  his  they  might  contain, 
and  to  nod  recognition.  The  burst  of  applause  recalled 
him  suddenly  to  what  was  passing  ui  the  stage.  He 
looked  round  and  stared  at  her.  For  a  moment  he  saw 
only  a  very  beautiful  girl,  in  the  prime  of  her  days,  grace- 
fully clad  for  her  part,  and  most  supple  in  her  movements. 
At  the  self-same  instant,  before  he  had  time  to  note  more, 
the  singer  opened  her  mouth,  and  began  to  pour  forth 
on  his  ear  lavish  floods  of  liquid  music.  Will  started  with 
surprise;  in  a  flash  of  recognition,  voice  and  face  came 


SIGNORA  CASALMONTE 


223 


back  to  him.  He  seized  Florian  by  the  arm.  "  Great 
God !  "  he  cried,  '*  it's  Linnet !  " 

Florian  struck  a  Httle  attitude.  "  Oh,  unexpected  fe- 
licity !  Oh,  great  gain !  "  he  murmured,  in  his  supremest 
manner.  "  You're  right !  So  it  is !  A  most  undoubted 
Lmnet !  " 

And  Linnet  it  was;  dressed  in  the  impossible  peasant 
costume  of  theatrical  fancy ;  grown  fuller  and  mor^  beau- 
tiful about  the  neck  and  throat;  with  her  delicate  voice 
highly  trained  and  developed  by  all  that  Italian  or  Bava- 
rian masters  could  suggest  to  improve  it;  but  Linnet  still 
for  all  that — the  same  beautiful,  simple;  sweet  Linnet  as 
ever. 

Joaquin  Holmes  glanced  at  the  programme.  "  And 
this,"  he  murmured  low,  *'  is  Signora  Carlotta  Casalmonte 
that  I  spoke  about." 

Florian's  eyes  opened  wide.  "  Why,  of  course !  "  he 
exclaimed  with  a  start.  "  I  wonder  we  didn't  see  it.  It's 
a  mere  translation  :  Casalmonte — Hausberger :  Carlotta — 
Caroliiia — Lina — Linnet ;  there  you  have  it !  "  And  he 
turned,  self-applausive  of  his  own  cleverness,  to  Rue,  who 
sat  beside  him. 

As  for  Rue,  her  first  feeling  was  a  sudden  flush  of 
pain ;  so  this  girl  had  come  back  to  keep  Will  still  apart 
from  her!  One  moment  later  that  feeling  gave  place 
with  lightning  speed  to  another;  would  he  care  for  this 
peasant  woman  so  much,  and  regret  her  so  deeply,  if  he 
saw  her  here  in  England,  another  man's  wife,  and  an 
actress  on  the  stage,  dressed  up  in  all  the  vulgar  tinsel 
gew-gaws,  surrounded  by  all  the  sordid  disenchanting 
realities  of  theatrical  existence? 

But  Will  himself  knew  two  things,  and  .two  things 
alone.  That  was  Linnet  who  stood  singing  there — and 
she  v;ore  the  necklet  he  had  sent  her  from  Innsbruck. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

FROM    linnet's   STANDPOINT 

Yes  ;  it  was  Linnet  indeed !  The  natural  chances  of  Will's 
profession  had  thrown  them  together  almost  inevitably 
on  the  very  first  night  of  her  appearance  in  London. 

Linnet  had  looked  forward  to  that  night;  she  had  al- 
ways expected  it.  During  those  three  long  years  that  had 
passed  since  they  parted,  she  had  never  yet  ceased  to  hope 
and  believe  that  Andreas  would  some  day  take  her  to 
England.  And  if  to  England,  then  to  London,  and  Will 
Deverill.  But  much  had  happened  meanwhile.  She  was 
the  self-same  Linnet  still,  in  heart  anil  )::  soul,  yet,  oh! 
how  greatly  changed  in  externals  of  every  sort.  Those 
three  years  and  a  half  had  made  a  new  woman  of  her 
in  art,  in  knowledge,  in  culture,  in  intellect.  She  had  left 
the  Tyrol  a  mere  ignorant  peasant-girl ;  she  came  to 
London  now  an  educated  lady,  an  accomplished  vocalist, 
a  powerful  actress,  a  finished  woman  of  society. 

And  it  was  Will  Deverill  who  had  first  put  into  her  head 
and  heart  the  idea  and  the  desire  of  attaining  such  per- 
fect mastery  in  her  chosen  vocation.  The  capacity,  the 
potentiality,. the  impulse,  the  instinct,  were  all  there  before- 
hand ;  no  polish  on  earth  can  ever  possibly  turn  a  common 
stone  into  a  gem  of  the  first  water :  the  beauty  of  color,  the 
delicacy  of  grain  must  be  inherent  from  the  .atsot,  only 
w^aiting  for  the  art  of  the  skilful  lapidary  to  hiitg  them 
visibly  out  and  make  them  publicly  manifest.  So  i^innet 
had  been  a  lady  in  fibre  from  the  very  first,  inheriting  the 
profound  Tyrolese  capacity  for  artistic  receptiveness  and 
artistic  eflfort;  everything  that  was  beautiful  in  external 
Nature  or  human  handicraft  spoke  straight  to  her  heart 
with  an  immediate  message — spoke  so  clear  that  Linnet 
could  not  choose  but  listen.  Still,  it  was  Will  Deverill's 
words  and  Will  Deverill's  example  that  first  set  her  soul 
upon  the  true  path  of  development.     It  was  he  who  had 

224 


'I 


FROM  LINNET'S   STANDPOINT        225 

read  her  Goethe's  Faust  on  the  Kiichelberg;  it  was  he 
who  had  explained  to  her  the  rude  Romanesque  designs 
on  the  portal  of  the  Rittersaal.  She  had  treasured  up 
those  first  lessons  in  her  inmost  heart;  they  were  the  key 
that  unlocked  for  her  the  front  door  of  culture. 

Andreas  Hausberger,  for  his  part,  could  never  have 
taught  her  so.  He  had  taken  her  straight  from  Meran  to 
Verona  and  Milan.  But  his  soul  was  bounded  by  the  one 
idea  of  music.  Even  in  the  first  poignant  sorrow  of  that 
hateful  honeymoon,  however,  Linnet  had  found  time  to 
gaze  in  wonder  at  the  great  amphitheater,  still  haunted  by 
the  spectral  form  of  the  legendary  Dietrich ;  to  cry  like  a 
child  over  the  narrow  tomb  where  Juliet  never  lay ;  to 
tread  with  silent  awe  the  vast  aisles  and  solemn  crypt  of 
San  Zeno  Maggiore.  At  Milan,  they  loitered  long;  An- 
dreas set  her  to  work  at  once  under  a  famous  local  teacher, 
and  took  her  often  in  the  evening  to  hear  celebrated 
singers  on  the  stage  of  La  Scala.  Such  elements  in  an 
artistic  education  he  thoroughly  understood,  but  it  never 
would  have  occurred  to  his  mind  as  any  part  of  a  soprano's 
training  to  make  her  examine  the  Luinis  and  Borgognones 
of  the  Brera,  or  do  homage  before  the  exquisite  Botticellis 
and  Peruginos  of  the  Museo  Poldi-Pezzoli.  To  the  Wirth 
of  St.  Valentin  such  excursions  into  the  sister  arts  would 
have  seemed  mere  wastt  of  valuable  time,  for  Andreas  re- 
garded music  as  a  branch  of  trade,  and  had  not  that  higher 
wisdom  which  understands  instinctively  how  every  form 
of  art  reflects  its  influence  indirectly  on  the  musician's 
mind  and  the  musician's  inspiration.  That  wisdom  Lin- 
net possessed,  and  Andreas,  after  a  few  ineffectual  remon- 
strances, let  her  go  her  own  way  and  live  her  own  artistic 
life  unchecked  to  the  top  of  her  bent — the  more  so  as  he 
perceived  she  sang  best  and  most  vigorously  when  least 
thwarted  or  worried.  Moreover,  many  well-advised 
friends  assured  him  in  private  it  was  desirable  for  zn 
actress  to  know  as  much  as  possible  of  costume,  of  color, 
of  posture,  and  of  grouping,  which  could  best  be  learned 
by  studying  the  works  of  the  great  early  painters. 

So  Linnet  went  her  way.  undeterred  by  her  husband, 
and  educated  herself  in  general  culture  at  the  same  time 
that  she  received  her  strict  musical  training.  She  knew 
Raphael's  Sposalizio  as  intimately  after  a  while  as  she 


226 


LINNET 


n 


i.Mi;^i!hyi!i!)!il 


knew  her  own  chalet;  she  gazed  on  the  flowing  lines  of 
Luini's  frescoes  till  they  grew  familiar  to  her  eyes  as  the 
Stations  of  the  Cross  in  the  old  church  at  St.  Valentin. 
She  drank  in  the  cathedral  with  an  endless  joy ;  she  loved 
its  innumerable  pinnacles,  its  thousand  statues  in  the  mar- 
ble niches:  she  admired  the  gloomy  antiquity  of  molder- 
ing  Sant'  Ambrogio,  the  dim  religious  aisles  of  Santa 
Maria  delle  Grazie.  Amid  surroundings  like  these,  her 
artistic  nature  expanded  by  degrees  as  naturally  as  a  bud 
opens  out  into  a  flower  before  the  summer  sunshine. 
She  reveled  in  the  architecture,  the  pictures,  the  statuary : 
Milan  stood  to  the  soul  of  the  peasant-singer  as  a  veritable 
university. 

It  was  the  first  time,  too,  that  Linnet  had  ever  found 
herself  in  a  bustling,  business-like,  modern  city.  The 
hurry  and  scurry  were  as  new  as  the  art  to  her.  The 
throng  of  men  and  women  in  the  crowded  streets,  the 
Piazza,  brilliant  with  the  flare  of  glowing  lamps,  the  great 
glass-roofed  gallery  where  the  gilded  Lombard  youth 
promenaded  by  night  in  twos  and  threes,  or  sipped  absinthe 
before  the  doors  of  dazzling  cafes:  all  these  were  quite 
fresh,  and  all  these  were,  in  their  way,  too,  an  element  of 
education.  There  are  many  who  can  see  no  more  in  Milan 
than  this :  they  know  it  only  as  the  most  go-ahead  and 
modernized  of  Italian  cities.  Linnet  knew  better.  To 
her  it  was  the  town  of  Leonardo  and  his  disciples,  of  the 
great  marble  pile  whose  infinite  detail  escapes  and  eludes 
tiie  most  observant  eye,  of  the  vast  and  stately  opera  house 
where  Otello  and  Carmen  first  unfolded  their  wonders  of 
sight  and  sound  to  her  ecstatic  senses.  Wiser  in  hei"  gen- 
eration, she  accepted  it  aright  as  the  vestibule  and  ante- 
chamber of  artistic  Italy. 

From  Milan  they  went  on  in  due  time  to  Florence. 
There  they  stopped  less  long,  for  opportunities  of  learn- 
ing were  not  by  any  means  so  good  as  at  Milan  and  Naples. 
But  those  few  short  weeks  in  the  City  of  the  Soul  were 
to  Linnet  as  a  dream  of  some  artistic  Paradise ;  they  made 
her  half  forget,  for  the  moment  at  least,  her  lost  English 
lover — and  her  husband's  presence.  The  Duomo,  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio,  the  Loggia,  the  Piazza,  the  old  bridge 
across  the  Arno,  the  enchanted  market-place;   Michael 


FROM  LINNET'S   STANDPOINT 


227 


Angelo's  tomb,  Giotto's  crusted  campanile!  What  hours 
she  spent,  entranced,  in  the  endless  halls  of  the  Uffizi  and 
the  Pitti;  what  moments  of  hushed  awe  and  rapt  silence 
of  soul  before  the  pallid  Fra  Angelicos  in  the  dim  cells  of 
San  Marco.  Ach,  Gott,  it  was  beautiful !  Linnet  gazed 
with  the  intense  delight  of  her  mountain  nature  at  Raphael's 
Madonnas  and  Andrea's  Holy  Families ;  she  stood  spell- 
bound before  the  exquisite  young  David  of  the  Academia ; 
she  wandered  with  a  strange  thrill  among  the  marvelous 
della  Robbias  and  Donatellos  of  the  Bargello.  The  Tyrolese 
temperament  is  before  all  things  artitsic.  A  new  sense 
seemed  quickened  within  Linnet's  soul  as  she  trod  those 
glorious  palaces  instinct  with  memories  of  the  Medici  and 
their  compeers.  A  great  thirst  for  knowledge  possessed 
her  heart.  She  read  as  she  had  never  known  how  to  read 
before.  That  Florentine  time  was  as  her  freshman  year 
in  the  splendid  quadrangles  of  this  Italian  Oxford. 

Then  Rome — the  Vatican,  the  Colosseum,  the  monu- 
ments, St.  Peter's,  the  loud  organs,  the  singing  boys,  the 
incense,  the  purple  robes  and  mitres,  the  great  guttering 
candles !  All  that  could  awake  in  unison  every  chord  of 
religion  and  its  sister  art.  in  that  simple  religious  artistic 
nature,  was  there  to  gratify  her !  It  was  glorious !  it  was 
wonderful!  So  her  winter  passed  away,  her  first  winter 
with  Andreas ;  she  was  learning  fast,  both  with  eye  and 
with  ear,  all  that  Italy  and  its  masters  could  possibly  teach 
her. 

As  spring  returned,  they  went  northward  through  Lom- 
bardy  and  the  Breniier  once  more  on  their  way  to  Munich. 
Her  own  Tyrol  looked  more  beautiful  than  ever  as  they 
passed,  with  its  unmelted  snows  lying  thick  on  the  moun- 
tains. But,  save  for  a  night  at  Innsbruck,  they  might  not 
stop  there.  Yet,  even  after  that  short  lapse  of  time  in 
southern  cities,  oh,  how  different,  how  altered  little  Inns- 
bruck seemed  to  her!  She  had  thought  it  before  such  a 
grand  big  town ;  she  thought  it  now  so  much  shrunken, 
so  old-world,  so  quaint,  so  homely.  And  then,  no  Will 
Deverill  was  there,  as  before,  to  brighten  it.  The  moun- 
tains gazed  down  as  o^  old  from  their  precipitous  crags 
upon  the  nestling  town ;  they  were  Tyrolese  and  home- 
like :  and  therefore  she  loved  them.    But  everything  had  a 


Mlllll 


i.'i'i'iiit' 


228 


LINNET 


'  ■("'If 


,.i:i  in 


iilli 


I 


smaller  and  meaner  air  than  six  months  earlier ;  the  queer 
old  High  Street  was  just  odd,  not  magnificent;  the  Anna 
Siiule  was  dwarfed,  the  Rathhaus  had  grown  smaller. 
She  had  only  seen  Milan,  Florence,  Rome,  meanwhile; 
but  Milan,  Florence,  Rome,  made  Innsbruck  sink  at  once 
to  its  proper  place  as  a  mere  provincial  capital.  While 
they  waited  for  the  Munich  train  next  morning,  she 
strolled  into  the  Hofkirche,  to  see  once  more  Maximilian's 
tomb  with  its  attendant  figures.-  She  started  at  the  sight. 
After  the  Venus  and  the  Laocoon  it  surprised  her  to  think 
she  could  so  lately  have  stood  awestruck  before  those 
naif  bronze  abortions ! 

That  summer  they  spent  in  Germany,  almost  wholly 
at  Munich.  There  Linnet  went  through  a  course  cf 
musical  training  under  a  well-known  teacher,  and  there, 
too,  she  had  ample  opportunities,  at  the  same  time,  of 
cultivating  to  the  full  her  general  artistic  faculties.  Next 
winter,  back  to  Italy — this  time  to  Venice,  Rome,  and 
Naples.  Linnet  learnt  much  once  more ;  it  was  all  so 
glorious ;  the  Grand  Canal,  St.  Mark's,  the  Academy,  the 
Frari,  Sorrento,  Capri,  Pozzuoli,  the  great  operas  at  San 
Carlo.  So  she  stored  her  brain  all  the  time  with  fresh 
experiences  of  men,  women,  and  things ;  with  pictures  of 
places,  of  architecture,  of  sculpture,  of  scenery.  Every- 
w'  ^re  her  quick  mind  assimilated  at  once  all  that  was 
best  and  most  valuable  in  what  she  saw  or  listened  to; 
by  eye  and  by  ear  alike,  she  was  half-unconsciously  educa- 
ting herself. 

But  that  wasn't  all.  She  had  ideas  as  well  of  still 
higher  education.  Will  Deverill  had  given  her  the  first 
key  to  books — and  books  are  the  gateways  of  the  deepest 
knowledge.  Partly  to  escape  from  the  monotony  of  An- 
dreas Hausberger's  conversation,  partly  also  quite  defi- 
nitely to  fit  herself  for  the  place  in  the  world  she  was  here- 
after to  fill — when  she  went  to  England — Linnet  turned 
to  books  as  new  friends  and  companions.  German  litera- 
ture first  of  all,  and  especially  the  dramatic.  Andreas  was 
wise  enough  in  his  generation  to  approve  of  that ;  he  was 
aware  that  acquaintance  with  plays  and  with  romantir 
works  in  general  forms  no  small  integral  part  of  an  opera- 
ginger's    equipment.      German    literature,    then,    first— 


FROM  LINNET  S   STANDPOINT         229 

Goethe,  Schiller,  Lessing,  Richter,  Paul  Heyse,  Freili- 
grath — German  literature  first,  but  after  it  English.  An- 
dreas approved  of  that,  too,  for  was  there  not  much  money 
to  be  made  out  of  England  and  America?  It  was  well 
Linnet  should  enlarge  her  English  vocabulary;  well,  too, 
she  should  know  the  plays  and  novels  on  which  Romeo 
e  Giulietta,  and  Lucia  di  Lammcrmoor,  and  /  Puritani 
were  founded.  But  I  'nnet  herself  had  other  reasons  of 
her  own  for  wishing  to  study  English.  Though  she 
looked  upon  Will  Deverill  as  something  utterly  lost  to 
her,  a  bright  element  in  her  life  now  faded  away  for  ever, 
she  yet  cherished  the  memory  of  that  one  real  love  episode 
so  deep  in  her  heart  that,  for  her  Englishman's  sake,  she 
loved  England  and  English.  She  looked  forward  to  the 
time  when  she  should  go  to  England ;  not  so  much  because 
she  thought  she  should  ever  meet  Will  Deverill  there — 
Naples  and  Munich  had  taught  her  vaguely  to  appreciate 
the  probable  vastness  of  London — but  because  it  was  the 
country  where  Will  Deverill  lived,  and  it  spoke  the  tongue 
Will  had  made  so  dear  to  her.  So  she  read  every  English 
book  she  could  easily  obtain — Shakespeare,  Milton,  Scott, 
Dickens,  Thackeray — and  she  took  oral  lessons  in  conver- 
sational English,  which  as  Andreas  justly  remarked,  would 
improve  her  accent,  and  enable  her  to  sing  better  in  Eng- 
lish opera. 

Thus  three  years  passed  away,  and  Linnet  in  their  course 
saw  much  of  the  Continent.  They  got  as  far  north  and 
west  at  times  as  Leipzig,  Brussels,  and  even  Paris.  But 
they  always  spent  their  winters  in  Italy ;  it  was  best  for 
Linnet's  throat,  Andreas  thought ;  it  gave  her  abundance 
of  fresh  air  and  sunshine;  and  besides,  the  Italian  style 
of  teaching  was  better  suited,  he  felt  sure,  to  her  ardent, 
excitable  Tyrolese  temperament,  than  the  colder  and  more 
learned  Bavarian  method. 

Twas  at  Naples,  accordingly,  that  Linnet  came  out  first 
as  Signora  Casalmonte.  But  after  a  short  season  there, 
Andreas  was  quite  suflficiently  assured  of  ultimate  success 
to  venture  upon  taking  his  prize  at  once  to  England.  He 
would  sell  his  goods,  like  a  prudent  merchant  that  he  was, 
in  the  dearest  market.  When  Linnet  first  learned  she  was 
to  go  to  London,  a  certain  strange  thrill  of  joy  and  hope 


230 


LINNET 


and  fear  coursed  through  her  irresistibly.  London!  that 
was  the  place  where  Will  Deverili  lived!  London!  that 
was  the  place  where  she  soon  might  meet  him ! 

She  clasped  the  little  metal  Madonna  that  still  hung 
from  her  neck,  convulsively.  "  Our  Dear  Frau,  oh,  pro- 
tect me !  Save  me,  oh,  save  me  from  the  thoughts  of  my 
own  heart!  Help  me  to  think  of  him  less!  Help  me  to 
try  and  forget  him !  " 

She  was  Andreas  Hausberger's  wife  now,  and  she  meant 
to  be  true  to  him.  Love  him  she  never  could,  but  sh  e  could 
at  least  be  true  to  him.  Not  in  deed  alone,  but  in  thought 
and  in  word,  as  Our  Dear  Frau  knew,  she  strove  hard  to 
be  faithful. 

Then  came  the  first  fluttering  excitement  and  disap- 
pointment of  London — that  dingy  Eldorado,  go  rich,  so 
miserable — the  dim,  dank  streets,  the  glare,  the  gloom,  the 
opulence,  the  squalor  of  our  fog-bound  metropolis!  For 
a  week  or  two,  thank  Heaven,  Liimet  was  too  busy  at  ar- 
rangements and  rehearsals  co  think  of  surroundings.  They 
were  the  weeks  during  which  Will  was  away  in  the  Prov- 
inces, or  he  must  almost  certainly  have  heard  of  and 
attended  the  preliminary  performances  of  the  forthcoming 
opera.  The  final  day  arrived,  and  Linnet,  all  tremulous 
at  the  greatness  of  the  stake,  had  to  make  her  first  appear- 
ance before  that  stolid  sea  of  unsympathetic,  hide-bound 
English  faces.  She  had  peeped  at  them  from  the  wings 
before  the  curtain  rose ;  oh,  how  her  heart  sank  within  her. 
The  respectable  sobriety  of  stalls  and  boxes,  the  square- 
jawed  brutality  of  pit  and  gallery,  the  cynical  aspect  of  the 
gentlemen  of  the  press,  in  their  faultless  evening  clothes 
and  unruffled  shirt-fronts — all  contrasted  so  painfully  with 
the  vivid  excitement  and  frank  expectancy  of  the  Neapoli- 
tan audiences  to  which  alone  she  had  hitherto  been  accus- 
tomed. One  brighter  thought,  and  only  one,  sustained 
her — Dear  Lady,  forgive  her  that  she  should  think  of  it 
now!  these  were  all  Herr  Will's  people,  and  they  spoke 
Herr  Will's  tongue;  as  Herr  Will  was  kind,  would  not 
they  too  be  kind  to  her  ? 

So,  plucking  up  heart  of  grace,  though  trembling  all 
over,  she  tripped  down  the  stage  rocks  with  her  free  gait 
of  a  sennerin.    To  her  joy  and  surprise,  a  burst  of  ap- 


FROM  LINNET'S   STANDPOINT         231 


plause  rose  responsive  at  once  from  tho:"  seemingly  irre- 
sponsive dress-coated  stalls,  those  stolidly  brutal  and 
square-faced  pittites.  Her  mere  beauty  stirred  them. 
Even  the  gentlemen  of  the  press,  smiling  cyncially  still, 
drummed  their  fingers  gently  on  the  flat  tops  of  their 
opera-hats.  Thus  encouraged.  Linnet  opened  her  mouth 
and  sang.  Her  throat  rose  and  fell  in  a  rhythmical  tide. 
She  rendered  the  first  stanza  of  her  first  song  almost  fault- 
lessly. She  knew,  herself,  she  had  never  sung  better. 
Then  came  a  brief  pause  before  she  went  on  to  the  second. 
During  that  pause,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  a  box  of  the  first 
tier.  The  Blessed  Madonna  in  Britannia  metal  on  the 
oval  pendant,  ever  faithful  at  a  pinch,  almost  crumpled  in 
her  grasp  as  she  looked  and  started.  It  was  Will  she  saw 
there,  Will,  Will,  her  dear  Englishman ;  and  Herr  Florian 
by  his  elbow,  and  the  grand  foreign  Frau,  the  fair-haired 
Frau,  the  Frau  with  the  diamonds,  ever  still  beside  them ! 

In  a  second,  Linnet  felt  from  head  to  foot  a  great  thrill 
break  over  her.  It  broke  like  a  wave  of  fire,  in  long,  un- 
dulating movement,  as  she  had  felt  it  at  Innsbruck.  The 
wave  rose  from  her  feet,  as  before,  and  coursed  hot 
through  her  limbs,  and  burnt  bright  in  her  body,  till  it 
came  out  as  a  crimson  flush  on  neck  an(  chin  and  fore- 
head. Then  it  descended  once  more,  thrilling  lliruugh  her 
as  it  went,  in  long,  undulating  movement,  from  her  neck 
to  her  feet  again.  She  felt  it  as  distinctly  as  she  could 
feel  Our  Blessed  Lady  clenched  hard  in  her  little  fist. 
Her  Englishman  was  there,  whom  she  thought  she  had 
lost ;  as  at  Innsbruck,  so  in  London,  he  had  come  to  hear 
her  sing  her  first  song  in  public ! 

All  at  once,  yet  again,  the  same  strange  seizure  came 
over  her.  As  her  eyes  met  Will's,  and  that  wave  of  fire 
ran  resistlessly  through  her,  she  was  conscious  of  a  weird 
sense  she  had  known  but  once  in  all  her  life  before — a 
sudden  failure  of  sound,  a  numb  deadening  of  the  orches- 
tra. Not  a  note  struck  her  ear.  It  was  all  a  vast  blank 
to  her.  Instinctively,  as  she  sang,  her  right  hand  toyed 
with  Will's  coral  necklet,  but  her  left,  with  all  its  might, 
still  gripped  and  clasped  Our  Lady  with  trembling  fingers. 
She  heard  not  a  word  she  herself  was  uttering ;  she  knew 
not  how  she  sang,  or  whether  she  sang  at  all ;  in  an  agony 


iiii 


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Hi 

1 

^''"'?'iilil!liii! 


l'"li:  !i;!iil!!liili! 


'Ill: 


232 


LINNET 


of  terror,  of  remorse,  of  shame,  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  conductor's  baton.  By  this  aid  alone  she  kept  true  to 
her  accompaniment.  But  her  heart  went  up  silently  in  one 
great  prayer  to  Our  Lady.  When  she  felt  this  at  Inns- 
bruck she  knew  it  was  love.  If  it  meant  love  still — An- 
dreas Hausberger's  wife — Oh !  Blessed  Mother,  help !  Oh ! 
Dear  Lady,  protect  her ! 


i 


CHAPTER  XXX 


AN    UNEXPECTED   VISITOR 


How  she  got  through  cnat  song,  how  she  got  through  that 
scene,  Linnet  never  knew.  She  was  conscious  of  but  two 
things — Will  Deverill's  presence  and  the  Blessed  Madonna. 
Remorse  and  shame  almost  choked  her  utterance.  But 
mechanically  she  went  on,  and  sang  her  part  out  to  the 
end — sang  it  exquisitely,  superbly.  Have  you  ever  noticed 
that  what  we  do  most  automatically,  we  often  do  best? 
It  was  so  that  night  at  the  Harmony  with  Linnet.  She 
knew  her  music  well ;  she  had  studied  it  carefully ;  and  the 
very  absence  of  self-consciousness  which  this  recognition 
gave  her,  made  her  sing  it  more  artlessly,  yet  more  per- 
fectly than  ever.  She  forgot  the  actress  and  the  singer  in 
the  woman.  That  suited  her  best  of  all.  Her  mental  exis- 
tence was  divided,  as  it  were,  into  two  distinct  halves ;  one 
conscious  and  personal,  absorbed  with  Will  Deverill  and 
Our  Dear  Lady  in  Britannia  metal ;  the  other  unconscious 
and  automatic,  pouring  forth  with  a  full  throat  the  notes 
and  words  it  was  wound  up  to  utter.  And  the  automatic 
self  did  its  work  to  perfection.  The  audience  hung  en- 
tranced ;  Andreas  Hausberger,  watching  them  narrowly 
from  a  box  at  the  side,  hugged  his  sordid  soul  in  rapture 
at  the  thought  that  Linnet  had  captured  them  on  this  her 
first  night  in  that  golden  England. 

She  sang  on  and  on.  The  audience  sat  enthralled. 
Gradually,  by  slow  stages,  the  sense  of  hearing  came  back 
to  her.  But  she  had  done  as  well,  or  even  better  without 
it.  The  act  went  off  splendidly.  Andreas  Hausberger  was 
in  transports.  At  the  first  interval  between  the  scenes, 
Rue  debated  in  her  own  soul  what  to  do  about  Linnet ;  but, 
being  a  wise  woman  in  her  way,  she  determined  to  wait  till 
the  end  of  the  piece  before  deciding  on  action.  Act  the 
Second,  Act  the  Third,  Act  the  Fourth  followed  fast;  in 
Act  the  Fifth  when  Linnet,  no  longer  a  peasant  girl,  but 


*34 


LINNET 


the  bride  of  the  Grand  Duke,  came  on  in  her  beautiful  pale 
primrose  brocade,  cut  square  in  the  bodice  like  a  picture 
of  Titian's,  the  audience  cheered  again  with  vociferous 
outburst.  Linnet  blushed  and  bowed ;  a  glow  of  conscious 
triumph  suffused  her  face ;  then  she  raised  her  eyes  timidly 
to  the  box  on  the  first  tier.  Her  victory  was  complete. 
She  could  see  by  his  face  Will  Deverill  was  satisfied — and 
the  grand  lady  with  the  diamonds  was  sincerely  applaud- 
ing her. 

Was  the  grand  lady  his  wife?  Why  not?  Why  not? 
What  could  it  matter  to  her  now?  She  was  Andreas 
Hausberger's.  And  Will — why,  Will  was  but  an  old 
Zillerthal  acquaintance. 

Yet  she  clutched  Our  Blessed  Frau  tighter  than  ever  in 
her  grasp,  at  that  painful  thought,  and  somehow  hoped 
illogically  Our  Blessed  Frau  would  protect  her  from  the 
chance  of  the  grand  lady  being  really  married  to  Will  Dev- 
erill. Not  even  the  gods,  says  Aristotle,  in  his  philosophic 
calm  can  make  the  past  not  have  been  as  it  was.  But 
Linnet  thought  otherwise. 

The  curtain  fell  to  a  storm  of  c  mg  hands.  After 
that  a  moment's  lull ;  then  loud  cries  of  "  Casalmonte ! " 
The  whole  theater  rang  with  them.  The  Papadopoli,  re- 
vived by  magic  from  his  open-air  deathbed  on  the  blood- 
stained grass,  came  forward  before  the  curtain,  alive  and 
well,  his  wounds  all  healed,  leading  Linnet  on  his  right, 
and  bowing  their  joint  acknowledgments.  At  sight  of  the 
soprana,  even  the  cynical  critics  yielded  spontaneous  hom- 
age. It  was  a  great  success  ;  a  very  great  success.  Linnet 
panted  and  bowed  low.  Surely  she  had  much  to  be  grate- 
ful for  that  night ;  surely  the  Blessed  Madonna  in  heaven 
above  had  stood  by  her  well  through  that  trying  ordeal! 

But  in  Rue  Palmer's  box,  after  all  was  over,  Florian's 
voice  rose  loud  in  praise  of  this  new  star  in  our  musical 
firmament.  "  When  first  she  swam  into  my  ken,"  he  said. 
"  on  her  Tyrolese  hillside — you  remember  it,  Deverill — I 
said  to  myself,  *  Behold  a  singer  indeed !  Some  day.  we 
may  be  sure,  we  shall  w^elcome  her  in  London.'  And  now, 
could  any  mortal  mixture  of  earth's  mold  breathe  purer 
music  or  more  innate  poesy?  " 

For  it  was  Florian's  cue,  as  things  stood,  to  make  much 
of  Linnet,  for  many  reasons.    In  the  first  place,  it  would 


AN  UNEXPECTED  VISITOR 


235 


reflect  credit  and  glory  on  his  insight  as  a  critic  that  he 
should  have  spotted  this  flaming  comet  of  a  season  while 
as  yet  it  loomed  no  larger  than  the  eleventh  magnitude. 
Indeed,  he  had  gone  down  among  the  other  critics  be- 
tween the  acts,  and  button-holed  each  of  them  in  the  lobby, 
separately.  "  A  discovery  of  my  own,  I  can  assure  you. 
I  found  her  out  as  a  peasant-girl  in  a  Tyrolese  valley,  and 
advised  her  friends  to  have  her  trained  and  educated." 
Then,  again,  his  praise  of  Linnet  no  doubt  piqued  Rue; 
and  Florian,  in  spite  of  rebuffs,  had  still  one  eye  vaguely 
fixed  in  reserve  on  Rue's  seven  hundred  thousand.  Faint 
heart,  he  well  knew,  never  won  fair  lady.  Besides,  Florian 
felt  it  was  a  good  thing  Will's  cow-girl  should  have  come 
back  to  him  in  London  thus  transformed  and  transfigured ; 
for  he  recognized  in  Will  his  one  dangerous  rival  for  Rue's 
aflfections,  and  he  was  bent  as  of  old  on  getting  rid  of 
Will  by  diverting  him,  if  possible,  upon  poor  helpless 
Linnet.  The  mere  fact  of  her  being  married  mattered 
little  to  a  philosoph  r.  So  he  murmured  more  than  once. 
as  Linnet  bowed  deeper  and  deeper,  "  What  a  beautiful 
creature  she  is,  to  be  sure!  You  remember.  Will,  what 
I  said  of  her  when  we  met  her  first  in  the  Zillerthal  ?  " 

Even  poets  are  human.  There  was  a  malicious  little 
twinkle  in  the  corner  of  Will's  eye  as  he  answered  briskly, 
"  Oh  yes ;  I  remember  it  word  for  word,  my  dear  fellow. 
You  said,  you  thought  with  time  and  training,  she  ou^ht 
to  serve  Andreas  Hausberger's  purpose  well  enough  for 
popular  entertainments.  Her  voice,  though  undeveloped, 
was  not  wholly  without  some  natural  compass." 

Will  had  treasured  up  those  words.  Florian  winced  at 
them  a  little — they  were  not  quite  as  enthusiastic  as  he 
could  have  wished  just  now;  but  he  recovered  himself 
dexterously.  "  And  I  told  Hausberger,"  he  went  on,  "  it 
was  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  waste  a  throat  like  that  on  a 
Tyrolese  troupe ;  and,  happily,  he  took  my  advice  at  once, 
and  had  her  prepared  for  the  stage  by  the  very  best 
teachers  in  Italy  and  Germany.  I'm  proud  of  her  success. 
It's  insight,  after  all — insight,  insight  alone,  that  makes 
and  marks  the  Heaven-born  Critic." 

Rue  was  writing  meanwhile  a  hurried  little  note  in 
pencil  on  the  back  of  a  programme.  She  had  debated  with 
herself  during  the  course  of  the  piece  whether  or  not  to 


wmm 


236 


LINNET 


send  down  and  ask  Linnet  to  visit  them.  Her  true  woman's 
nature  took  naturally  at  last  the  most  generous  course — 
which  was  also  the  safest  one.  She  folded  the  piece  of 
paper  into  a  three-cornered  twist,  and  handed  it  with  one 
of  her  sunny  smiles  to  the  Seer.  It  was  addressed 
"  Herr  Hausberger."  "  Will  you  take  that  down  for  me, 
Mr.  Holmes?"  she  asked,  with  a  little  tremor,  "and  tell 
one  of  the  waiting-girls  to  give  it  at  once  to  Madame 
Casalmonte's  husband." 

The  Seer  accepted  the  commission  with  delighted 
alacrity.  In  a  moment  he  had  spied  game ;  his  quick  eye, 
intuitive  as  a  woman's,  had  read  at  a  glance  conflicting 
emotions  on  Rue's  face,  and  Will's  and  Florian's.  What- 
ever else  it  might  mean,  it  meant  grist  for  the  mill ;  he 
would  make  his  market  of  it.  A  suspicion  of  intrigue  is 
the  thought-reader's  opportunity. 

Linnet  was  standing  at  the  wings  in  a  flutter  of  ex- 
citement, all  tremulous  from  her  triumph,  and  wondering 
whether  or  not  Will  would  come  down  to  ask  for  her, 
when  Andreas  Hausberger  bustled  up,  much  interested, 
evidently,  with  some  pleasurable  emotion.  He  had  seen 
his  wife  between  the  acts  already,  and  assured  her  of  his 
satisfaction  at  so  fortunate  an  event  for  the  family  ex- 
chequer. But  now  he  came  forward,  brimming  over  with 
fresh  pleasure,  and  waving  a  note  in  his  hand,  as  he  said 
to  her  briskly  in  German,  '*  Don't  wait  to  change.  Linnet. 
This  is  really  most  lucky.  Mrs.  Palmer — the  lady  we  met 
at  Innsbruck,  you  know — wants  to  see  you  in  her  box. 
She's  immensely  rich,  I'm  told;  and  Florian  Wood's  up 
there  with  her.  The  manager  assures  me  he's  one  of  the 
most  influential  critics  in  London.  Come  along,  just  as 
you  are,  and  mind  you  speak  nicely  to  her." 

The  lights  were  left  burning  long  in  the  passages,  as  is 
often  the  case  on  first  night?  in  Londoii.  Andreas  led  the 
way;  Linnet  followed  him  like  one  bMndfolded.  Oh, 
Blessed  Madonna,  how  strangely  you  order  things  on  this 
earth  of  yours  sometimes!  It  was  her  husband  himself, 
then,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  who  was  taking  her  to  the 
box  where  Will  Deverill  was  waiting  for  her! 

As  for  Andreas  Hausberger,  he  stalked  on  before, 
elated,  hardly  thinking  of  Will — us  indeed  he  had  no  cause 


AN  UNEXPECTED  VISITOR 


^37 


/oman  s 
ourse — 
piece  of 
nth  one 
Idressed 
for  me, 
and  tell 
Madame 

elighted 
lick  eye, 
nflicting 
What- 
mill;  he 
trigue  is 

r  of  ex- 

Dndering 

for  her, 

iterested, 

liad  seen 

ir  of  his 

nily  ex- 

ver  with 

he  said 

Linnet. 

'  we  met 

ler  box. 

)od's  up 

le  of  the 

just  as 

es,  as  is 

led  the 

■d.     Oh, 

on  this 

himscH, 

mr  to  the 

before. 
10  cause 


to  do.  The  rich  woman  of  the  world  and  the  influential 
critic  monopolized  his  attention.  Tyrolese  though  he 
was,  he  was  by  no  means  jealous ;  greed  of  gain  had 
swallowed  up  in  him  all  the  available  passions  of  that 
phlegmatic  nature.  Linnet  was  his  chattel  now ;  he  had 
married  her  and  trained  her;  her  earnings  were  his  own, 
doubly  mortgaged  to  him  for  life,  and  no  poet  on  earth, 
be  he  ever  so  seductive,  could  charm  them  away  from  him. 

He  opened  the  box  door  with  stately  dignity.  At  St. 
Valentin  or  in  London,  he  was  a  person  of  importance. 
Linnet  entered,  quivering.  She  still  wore  her  primrose 
brocade,  as  all  through  the  last  act,  and  she  looked  in  it, 
even  yet,  a  very  great  lady.  Not  Rue  herself  looked  so 
great  or  so  grand — charming,  smiling  Rue — as  she  rose  to 
greet  her.  They  stood  and  faced  each  other.  One  second 
Rue  paused ;  then  a  womanly  instinct  all  at  once  over- 
came her.  Leaning  forward  with  the  impulse,  she  kissed 
the  beautiful,  stately  creature  on  both  cheeks  with  effu- 
sion, in  unfeigned  enthusiasm. 

"  Why,  Linnet,"  she  said,  simply,  as  if  she  had  always 
known  her ;  **  we're  so  glad  to  see  you — to  be  the  very  first 
to  congratulate  you  on  your  success  this  evening!  " 

A  flood  of  genuine  passion  rushed  hot  into  Linnet's 
face.  Her  warm  southern  nature  responded  at  once  to  the 
pressure  of  Rues  hand.  She  seized  her  new  friend  by 
either  arm,  and  returned  her  double  kiss  in  a  transport  of 
gratitude.  "  Dear  lady,"  sue  said,  with  fervor,  in  her  still 
imperfect  English,  "how  sweet  that  yon  receive  me  so! 
How  kind  and  good  you  Ei.glish  are  to  me!  " 

Andreas  Hausberger's  white  shirt-front  swelled  with 
expansive  joy.  This  all  meant  money.  They  were  really 
making  wonderful  strides  in  England. 

Will  held  his  hand  out  timidly.  "  Have  you  forgotten 
me,  Fran  Hausberger?"  he  asked  her  in  German. 

Linnet's  face  flushed  a  still  deeper  crimson  than  be- 
fore, as  she  answered  frankly,  "  Forgotten  you,  Herr  Will. 
Ach,  Ucbcr  Gott,  no!  How  kind  of  you  ...  to  come 
and  hear  my  first  performance !  " 

"  Nor  me  nther,  Linnet,  I  hope,"  Florian  interposed 
more  familiarly,  in  his  native  tongue;  for  he  had  caught 
at  the  meaning  of  that  brief  Teutonic  interlude.    "  I  shall 


im 


238 


LINNET 


always  feel  proud,  Herr  Andreas^  to  think  it  was  I  who 
first  discovered  this  charming  song-bird's  voice  among  its 
native  mountains." 

But  Will  found  no  such  words.  He  only  gazed  at  his 
recovered  peasant-love  with  profound  admiration.  Fine 
feathers  make  fine  birds,  and  it  was  wonderful  how  much 
more  of  a  personage  Linnet  looked  as  she  stood  there  to- 
night in  her  primrose  brocade,  than  she  had  looked  nearly 
four  years  since  in  her  bodice  and  kirtle  on  the  slopes  of 
the  Zillerthal.  She  was  beautiful  then,  but  she  was  queenly 
now — and  it  was  not  dress  alone,  either,  that  made  all 
the  difference.  Since  leaving  the  Tyrol,  Linnet  had 
blossomed  out  fast  into  dignified  womanhood.  All  that 
she  had  learnt  and  seen  meanwhile  had  impressed  itself 
vividly  on  her  face  and  features.  So  they  sat  for  awhile 
in  blissful  converse,  and  talked  of  what  had  happened  to 
each  in  the  interval.  Rue  sent  Florian  down  with  a  mes- 
sage to  ask  their  friend  the  manager  not  to  turn  his  gas  oft' 
while  the  party  remained  there.  The  manager,  bland  and 
smiling,  and  delighted  at  his  prima  donna's  excellent 
reception,  joined  the  group  in  the  box,  and  insisted  that 
they  should  all  accompany  him  to  supper.  To  this,  the  Sar- 
torises  demurred,  on  the  whispered  ground  of  dear  Ar- 
thur's position.  Dear  Arthur  himself,  indeed,  resisted 
but  feebly;  it  was  Maud  who  was  firm;  but  Maud  was 
firm  as  a  rock  about  it.  Let  dear  Arthur  go  to  supper 
with  a  theatrical  manager,  to  meet  a  bedizened  youn^ 
woman  from  a  playhouse  like  that — and  him  a  beneficed 
clergyman  with  an  eye  to  a  canonry!  Maud  simply  put 
her  foot  down. 

So  the  Sartorises  went  home  in  a  discreet  four-wheeler ; 
but  the  rest  lingered  on,  and  gossiped  of  old  times  in  the 
Tyrol  together,  and  heard  each  other's  tales  with  the  deep- 
est interest. 

"  And  your  mother  ?  "  Will  asked  at  last ;  he  was  the 
first  who  had  thought  of  her. 

Linnet's  face  fell  fast.  She  clasped  her  dark  hands 
tight.  "  Ah,  that  dear  mother,"  she  said,  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh,  and  a  mute  prayer  to  Our  Lady.  **  She  died 
last  winter,  when  I  was  away  from  home — away  down  in 
Venice.  I  couldn't  get  back  to  her.  'Twas  the  Herr 
Vicar's  fault.    He  never  wrote  she  was  ill  till  the  dear  God 


AN  UNEXPECTED  VISITOR 


^39 


had  taken  her.  It  was  too  late  then.  I  couldn't  even  go 
home  to  say  a  pater  noster  over  her." 

"  So  now  you're  alone  in  the  world,"  Will  murmured, 
gazing  hard  at  her. 

*'  Yes ;  now  I'm  alone  in  the  world,"  Linnet  echoed, 
sadly. 

"  But  you  have  your  husband,  of  course,"  Florian  put  in, 
with  a  wicked  smile,  and  a  side  glance  at  Andreas,  who 
for  his  part  was  engaged  in  paying  court  most  assiduously 
to  the  rich  young  widow. 

Linnet  looked  up  with  parted  lips.  "  Ah,  yes ;  I  have 
my  husband,"  she  answered,  as  by  an  after-thought,  in  a 
very  subdued  tone,  which  sent  a  pang  and  a  thrill  through 
Will's  heart  at  once — so  much  did  it  tell  him.  He  knew 
from  those  few  words  she  wasn't  happy  in  her  married  life. 
How  could  she  be.  indeed — such  a  soul  as  hers,  with  such 
a  man  as  Andreas? 

Their  first  gossip  was  over,  and  they  were  just  getting 
ready  to  start  for  supper,  when  one  of  the  box-keepers 
knocked  at  the  door  with  a  card  in  his  hand,  which  he 
passed  to  Andreas  Hausberger.  "  There's  a  gentleman 
here  who's  been  waiting  outside  for  some  time  to  see 
you,"  he  said ;  "  and  he  asked  me  to  give  you  this  card  at 
once,  if  you'll  kindly  step  down  to  him,  sir." 

Andreas  took  it  with  a  smile,  and  gazed  at  it  uncon- 
cernedly. But  a  dash  of  color  mounted  suddenly  into 
those  pale  brown  cheeks,  as  his  eye  caught  the  words 
neatly  engraved  on  the  card,  "  Mr.  Franz  Lindner,"  and 
below  in  the  corner,  "  Signor  Francesco,  The  London 
Pavilion." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


WHEN    GREEK    MEETS   GREEK 


Andreas  handed  the  card  to  Will  with  a  sardonic  smile. 
"  That  wild  fellow  again,"  he  muttered.  "  I  didn't  know 
he  was  in  England.  1  suppose  I  must  go  down  to  the  door 
to  see  him." 

But  Will  glanced  at  the  name  in  profound  dismay.  It 
was  an  awkward  moment.  Heaven  knew  what  might 
come  of  it.  As  he  gazed  and  paused,  all  that  Franz  had 
said  to  him  at  the  Criterion  bar  a  year  before  recurred  to 
his  mind  vividly.  He  seized  Hausberger's  arm  with  a 
nervous  clutch,  and  drew  him  a  little  aside.  "  Take  care 
of  this  man  Lindner,"  he  said  in  a  warning  whisper.  '*  He 
doesn't  love  you.  He  is  not  to  be  trusted.  If  I  were  you, 
I  wouldn't  see  him  alone.  He  owes  you  a  grudge.  Ask 
him  up  here,  and  talk  with  him  before  us  all  and  the 
ladies." 

"  Did  you  know  he  was  in  London?  "  Andreas  inquired, 
scarcely  flinching. 

"  Yes ;  I  met  him  by  accident  in  Bond  Street  a  year  ago. 
I've  been  to  hear  him  sing  at  the  music  hall  where  he 
works,  and  he  came  with  Mr.  Wood  and  myself  to  the 
Duke  of  Edinburgh's  to  see  Szvcet  Maisie,  one  of  my 
pieces.  But  he  was  breathing  forth  fire  and  slaughter 
against  you,  even  then,  for  leaving  him  in  the  lurch  that 
time  at  Meran.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  he's  a  dangerous 
man  in  a  dangerous  mood ;  I  can't  answer  for  what  may 
happen  if  you  go  down  alone  to  him." 

"  Let  mc  go  down  and  fetch  him,"  Florian  suggested, 
blandly.  "  The  job  would  just  suit  me.  I'm  warranted  to 
disarm  the  most  truculent  fool  in  Christendom  with  a 
smile  and  a  word  or  two." 

To  this  middle  course  Andreas  consented  somewhat 
doubtfully.  He  knew  Franz's  temper  and  his  Tyrolese 
impetuosity ;  but  as  a  Tyroler  himself,  hot-hearted  at  core 

240 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 


241 


lie  smile. 

n't  know 

the  door 

may.  It 
at  might 
ranz  had 
:urred  to 
n  with  a 
rake  care 
er.  "He 
vera  you, 
ge.  Ask 
and  the 

inquired, 

year  ago. 
Adhere  he 
to  the 
of  my 
slaughter 
.irch  that 
angerous 
rhat  may 

iggested, 
ranted  to 
with  a 

omewhat 
Tyrolese 
at  core 


for  all  his  apparent  phlegm,  he  didn't  feel  inclined  to 
parley  through  an  ambassador  with  a  pretentious  Robbler. 
However,  a  scene  on  the  first  night  would  be  bad  busi- 
ness. That  touched  a  tender  point.  So  he  gave  way  un- 
graciously. Florian  departed,  full  of  importance  at  his 
post  of  envoy,  and  returned  in  a  minute  or  two  with  the 
Robbler's  ultimatum.  "  He's  been  drinking,  I  fancy," 
he  said,  "and  he's  very  wild  and  excited;  Montepulciano 
in  his  eye,  Lacrima  Christi  in  his  gait,  Falernian  in  his 
utterance.  But  he'll  come  up  if  you  like ;  only  I  thought, 
Rue,  as  it's  your  box,  I'd  better  ask  you  first  whether  you'd 
care  to  see  him." 

"He  isn't  drunk,  is  he?"  Rue  asked,  shrinking  back. 
"  We  couldn't  have  a  drunken  man  shown  up  into  the 
box  here." 

"  Not  more  drunk  than  a  gentleman  should  be,"  Florian 
answered,  airily.  "  He  can  walk  and  talk,  and  I  think  he 
can  behave  himself.  But  he's  a  good  deal  flushed,  and 
somewhat  flustered,  and  he  expresses  a  burning-  desire  for 
Herr  Hausberger's  heart-blood,  in  a  gutteral  bass,  with 
quite  unbecoming  ferocity." 

Rue  shrank  away  with  a  frightened  face.  "  Oh,  don't 
bring  him  up  here !  "  she  cried.  "  Please,  Florian,  don't 
bring  him  up  here.  I'm  so  afraid  of  tipsy  men ;  and  you 
don't  really  think  he  wants  to  murder  Herr  Hausberger?  " 

"  Well,  not  exactly  to  murder  him,  perhaps,"  Florian 
replied,  with  a  tolerant  and  expansive  smile ;  "  that  would 
be  positively  vulgar;  but  to  fight  him,  no  doubt;  and,  if 
possible,  to  put  an  end  to  him.  The  duel  in  one  form  or 
another,  you  see,  is  a  most  polite  institution.  We  don't 
call  it  murder  in  good  Society.  Lindner  feels  himself 
aggrieved — there's  a  lady  in  the  case — "  and  he  gave  an 
expressive  side-glance  over  his  shoulder  towards  Linnet, 
**  so  he  desires  to  bury  his  knife  to  the  hilt  in  the  gentle- 
man's body  whom,  rightly  or  wrongly,  he  conceives  to 
have  acted  ill  towards  him. .  Nothing  vulgar  in  that  you'll 
allow:  a  most  natural  sentiment.  Only,  as  Herr  Haus- 
berger's friends  in  this  little  aflFair,  we  must  strive  our 
best  to  see  that  all  things  are  done,  as  the  apostle  advises, 
decently  and  in  order." 

Linnet  drew  back  with  a  convulsive  gasp.  Was  this 
bloodshed  they  contemplated, and  were  talking  of  so  calmly? 


242 


LINNET 


Will  laid  his  hand  on  Rue's  arm.  Even  in  the  heat  of  the 
moment,  Lmnet  noticed  that  simple  action,  and,  she  knew 
not  why,  her  heart  sank  within  her. 

"  If  I  were  you.  Rue,"  Will  put  in  very  hurriedly,  "  I'd 
let  this  man  come  in ;  drunk  or  sober,  I'd  see  him.  It's  better 
he  should  speak  with  Herr  Hausberger  here  than  any- 
where else.  Try  to  sink  your  own  feelings  and  put  up 
with  him  for  a  minute  or  two.  If  you  don't,  I'm  afraid  I 
can't  answer  for  the  consequences." 

He  spoke  very  seriously.  Rue  drew  back,  still  shrink- 
ing. Her  face  was  pale  but  her  voice  was  firm.  "  Very 
v^ell,  Will,"  she  answered,  without  another  word  of  demur. 
"I  hate  a  tipsy  man ;  but  if  you  wish  it,  I'll  see  him  here." 

Linnet  noticed  the  lingering  stress  of  her  voice  on  the 
you,  and  the  obvious  familiarity  that  subsisted  between 
them;  and  she  thought  to  herself  once  more,  what  did  it 
matter  to  her? — she  was  Andreas  Hausberger's  wife  now. 
Blessed  Madonna,  protect  her ! 

Florian  disappeared  a  second  time,  buoyant  as  usual, 
and  came  back  in  a  minute — bringing  Franz  Lindner  witli 
him.  The  Seer  had  left  the  box  some  moments  earlier: 
Linnet  and  Rue  stood  forward  towards  the  door,  as  if 
to  break  the  attack,  with  Andreas  in  the  background,  be- 
tween Will  and  the  manager.  Florian  flung  the  door  open 
with  his  customary  flourish.  "  Mr.  Franz  Lindner !  "  he 
said,  introducing  him  with  a  wave  of  his  dainty  small  hand, 
"  whose  charming  performance  on  the  zither  we  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing,  you  will  recollect,  Rue,  with  Signora 
Casalmonte,  some  years  ago  at  Innsbruck." 

The  Robbler  stepped  into  the  box,  erect,  haughty,  de- 
fiant. His  handsome  face  was  flushed  and  flown  with 
drink;  but  his  manner  was  alert,  self-respecting,  angry. 
He  glared  about  him  with  fierce  eyes.  His  left  hand,  held 
to  his  bosom,  just  defined  between  finger  and  thumb  the 
vague  shape  of  the  bowie  in  his  breast  coat  pocket;  his 
right  was  disengaged  with  a  tremulous  quiver,  as  if  in 
readiness  to  spring  at  Andreas  Hausberger  and  throttle 
him. 

With  unexpected  presence  of  mind.  Rue  extended  her 
pretty  gloved  hand  towards  the  Robbler,  cordially,  as 
if  she  fancied  he  had  come  on  the  most  ordinary  errand. 

We're  so  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Lindner,"  she  cried,  in  a 


« 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 


243 


natural  voice,  and  with  apparent  frankness — though  that 
was  a  fearful  feminine  fib ;  "I  remember  so  well  your  de- 
lightful jodels!  You  were  a  member  of  Hcrr  Haus- 
berger's  company  then,  1  recollect.  How  charmingly  his 
wife  has  been  singing  here  this  evening !  " 

The  Robbler  gazed  about  him,  a  little  disconcerted  at 
so  different  a  welcome  from  the  one  he  had  expected. 
However,  as  things  stood,  the  acquired  instincts  of  civili- 
zation compelled  him  to  hold  in  check  for  a  moment  the 
more  deeply  ingrained  impulses  of  his  mountain  nature.  Be- 
sides, Rue's  words  appealed  at  once  to  his  personal  vanity. 
To  think  that  this  beautiful  and  exquisitely-dressed  lady, 
with  the  diamonds  on  her  white  neck,  and  the  dainty  pale 
gloves  on  her  tapering  fingers,  should  receive  him  in  her 
box  like  a  gentleman  and  an  equal !  How  could  he  jump  at 
)iis  enemy's  throat  then  and  there  before  her  eyes  ?  How  re- 
main insensible  to  so  much  grace,  so  much  tact,  so  much 
elegance?  Moreover,  he  was  taken  aback  by  the  number 
of  persons  in  the  box,  the  unexpected  brilliancy,  the  im- 
posing evening  dress,  Linnet's  stately  costume.  Rue's 
dazzling  jewellery.  He  had  come  up  there,  meaning  to 
rush  at  his  antagonist  the  very  moment  he  saw  h'm,  and 
plunge  a  knife  into  his  heart,  like  a  true  Tyrolese  Robbler, 
even  here  in  London.  Instead  of  that,  he  paused  irreso- 
lute, took  the  gloved  hand  in  his,  bent  over  it  with  the 
native  dignity  and  courtesy  of  his  race,  and  faltered,  in 
broken  English,  some  inarticulate  words  of  genuine  grati- 
fication that  Mrs.  Palmer  should  deign  to  remember  so 
kindly  his  poor  performances  on  the  zither  at  Innsbruck 

Then  Will  came  forward  in  turn,  seized  the  Robbler's 
right  hand,  wrang  it  hard  and  long — just  to  occupy  the 
time,  and  prevent  possible  mischief — and  poured  forth 
hurried  remarks,  one  after  another,  hastily,  about  Linnet's 
first  appear?  lice,  and  the  success  of  her  singing.  It  was 
a  friendly  meeting.  The  manager  chimed  in,  with  Florian 
in  his  most  ecstatic  mood  for  chorus.  Franz  Lindner's 
blood  boiled;  dazed  and  startled  as  he  was,  more  than 
ever  now  he  felt  in  his  heart  of  how  great  a  prize  Andreas 
Hausberger  had  defrauded  him.  By  trickery  and  stealth  that 
sordid  wretch  had  defrauded  him.  The  ladies  at  the  London 
Pavilion,  indeed!  Whv,  Linnet  on  those  boards — Linnet 
in  that  dress — Linnet  in  her  transformed  and  transfigured 


244 


LINNET 


t% 

"li 

HuJ 

III 

;!i 

m 

'11 

■'ill 

^1 

beauty — she  was  worth  the  whole  troupe  of  them!  Yet 
what  could  he  do?  Linnet  held  out  her  frank  hand; 
Franz  grasped  it  fervently.  Her  beauty  surprised  him. 
She  was  no  longer,  he  saw  well,  the  mere  musical  peasant 
girl ;  she  had  risen  to  the  situation ;  she  was  now  a  great 
artist,  a  great  lady,  a  queen  of  the  theater. 

Primitive  natures  are  quick.  Their  emotions  are  few, 
but  strong  and  overpowering.  Mood  succeeds  mood  with 
something  of  the  rapidity  and  successive  eflfacement  we 
see  in  children.  Franz  Lindner  had  entered  that  box,  full 
of  rage  and  anger,  thirsting  only  for  blood,  eager  to 
wreak  his  vengeance  on  the  man  who  had  offended  him. 
He  had  no  thought  of  love  for  Linnet  then ;  only  a  fierce, 
keen  sense  of  deadly  resentment  towards  Andreas.  Now, 
in  a  moment,  as  Linnet  let  her  soft  hand  lie  passive  in  his, 
like  an  old  friend  recovered,  another  set  of  feelings  rushed 
over  him  irresistibly.  His  heart  leaped  up  into  his  mouth 
at  her  pressure.  Why,  Linnet  was  beautiful ;  Linnet  was 
exquisite;  Linnet  was  a  prize  worth  any  man's  winning. 
If  he  stabbed  Andreas  then  and  there  before  his  wife's 
very  eyes,  he  might  glut  his  revenge,  to  be  sure — but  what 
would  that  avail  him  ?  Why  go  and  be  hanged  for  killing 
Linnet's  husband,  and  leave  Linnet  herself  for  some  other 
man  to  woo.  and  win,  and  be  happy  with?  Herr  Will. 
there,  would  thank  him,  no  doubt,  for  that  chance ;  for  he 
could  plainly  see  by  his  eyes  Herr  Will  was  still  deeply  in 
love  with  Linnet.  No,  no, — hot  heart ;  down,  down  for 
the  present !  Keep  your  hands  off  Andreas's  throat ;  wait 
for  sweeter  vengeance !  To  win  away  his  wife  from  him, 
to  steal  her  by  force,  to  seduce  her  by  soft  words,  to  wile 
her  by  blandishment — that  were  a  better  revenge  in  the 
end  than  to  stick  a  knife  in  him  now — though  to  stick  a 
knife,  too,  is  very  good  requital !  Sooner  or  later,  Franz 
meant  to  have  Andreas  Hausberger's  blood.  But  not  to 
be  hanged  for  it.  He  would  rather  live  on  ...  to  kill 
Hausberger  first,  and  enjoy  his  wife  afterwards. 

All  this,  qu'ck  as  lightning,  not  thought  but  felt  in  an 
indivisible  flash  of  time,  darted  through  Franz  Lindner's 
seething  brain,  at  touch  of  Linnet's  fingers.  She  spoke  a 
few  words  to  him  of  friendly  reminiscence.  Then  An- 
dreas, stepping  forward,  held  out  his  hand  in  turn.  It 
was  a  critical  moment.    Linnet's  heart  stood  still.    Franz 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 


245 


n!    Yet 

c  hand; 

ed  him. 

peasant 

a  great 

are  few, 
)od  with 
nent  we 
box,  full 
^ager  to 
led  him. 
a  fierce, 
;.    Now, 
/e  in  his, 
^s  rushed 
is  mouth 
nnet  was 
winning, 
is  wife's 
but  what 
)r  killing 
me  other 
srr  Will 
? ;  for  he 
deeply  in 
own  for 
Dat ;  wait 
om  him, 
,  to  wile 
in  the 
D  stick  a 
r,  Franz 
It  not  to 
to  kill 

elt  in  an 
Jndner's 
spoke  a 
hen  An- 
urn.  It 
Franz 


lifted  his  arm,  half  hesitating,  toward  his  breast  coat 
pocket.  Should  he  stab  him — or  wring  his  hand?  The 
surroundings  settled  it.  It's  a  thousand  times  harder  to 
plunge  your  knife  into  your  man  before  the  eyes  of  ladies 
and  dramatic  critics,  in  a  box  of  a  London  theater,  than 
among  the  quarrelsome  hinds  on  a  Tyrolese  hillside. 
Surlily  and  grudgingly,  Franz  lifted  his  right — extended 
it  with  an  effort,  and  shook  hands  with  his  enemy.  Rue 
and  Linnet  looked  on  in  an  agony  of  suspense.  Once  the 
grasp  was  over,  every  member  of  the  party  drew  a  deep 
breath  involuntarily.  The  tension  was  relieved.  Conver- 
sation ran  on  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  The  whole 
little  episode  occupied  no  more  than  two  fleeting  minutes. 
At  its  end  they  were  all  chatting  with  apparent  unconcern 
about  old  times  at  Meranand  old  friends  at  St.  Valentin. 

Franz  was  sobered  by  the  conflict  of  emotion  within  him. 
The  manager,  with  great  tact  and  presence  of  mind,  in- 
vited him  promptly  to  join  them  at  supper.  '  Franz  ac- 
cepted with  a  good  grace,  uncertain  yet  how  he  stood  with 
them,  and  became  before  long  almost  boisterously  merry. 
Tie  kept  himself  within  due  bounds,  indeed,  before  the 
faces  of  the  ladies,  and  drank  his  share  of  champagne 
with  surprising  moderation.  But  he  talked  unceasingly, 
for  the  most  part  to  Linnet,  Rue,  and  Florian ;  very  little 
to  Will ;  hardly  at  all  to  Andreas  Hausberger.  They  sat 
late  and  long.  They  had  all  much  to  say,  and  Will,  in 
particular,  wished  to  notice  with  care  the  nature  of  the 
relations  between  Linnet  and  Andreas.  At  last  they  rose 
to  go.  Will  saw  Franz  sedulously  to  the  door  of  the  sup- 
per-rooms. He  wanted  to  make  sure  the  man  was  really 
gone.  Franz  paused  for  a  minute  on  the  threshold  of  the 
steps,  and  gazed  out  with  vague  eyes  on  the  slippery 
Strand.  "  Zat's  a  fine  woman,"  he  said,  slowly ;  "  a  very 
fine  woman.  Andreas  Hausberger  took  her  from  me. 
You  saved  his  life  zis  night.  But  she's  mine  by  ze  right, 
and  some  day  I  shall  claim  h  r !  " 

Will  took  Rue  home;  she  dismissed  Florian  early.  In 
the  brougham,  as  they  drove,  for  some  time  neither  spoke 
of  the  subject  that  was  nearest  both  their  hearts ;  an  inde- 
scribable shyness  possessed  and  silenced  them.  At  last. 
Will  said,  tentatively,  in  a  very  timid  voice,  striking  oflF 
at  a  tangent,  "  She's  more  beautiful  than  ever,  and  she 


246 


LINNET 


ill 


sang  to-night  divinely.  These  years  have  done  much  for 
her,  Rue.  She  returns  to  us  still  the  same;  and  yet,  oh, 
how,  altered !  " 

"Yes;  she  is  beautiful,"  Rue  answered,  in  a  very  low 
tone — "  more  beautiful  than  ever.  And  such  a  perfect 
lady,  too — so  charming  and  so  graceful,  one  can't  help 
loving  her.  I  don't  wonder  at  you  men.  Will,  when  even 
we  women  feel  it." 

They  drove  on  for  another  minute  or  two,  each  musing 
silently.  Then  Will  spoke  again.  "  Do  you  think,"  he 
inquired,  in  a  very  anxious  voice,  "  she's  .  .  .  she's 
happy  with  her  husband  ?  " 

"  No !  "  Rue  answered,  decisively.  It  was  the  short, 
sharp,  extremely  explosive  "  No  "  that  closes  a  subject. 

'*  1  thought  not,  myself,"  Will  went  on,  with  still  greater 
constraint.  "  I  was  afraid  she  wasn't.  But  ...  I 
thought    ...    I  might  be  preiudiced." 

Rue  lifted  her  eyes,  and  met  his,  by  the  gloom  of  the 
gaslamps.  "  She's  very  unhappy  with  him,"  she  burst 
out  all  at  once  with  a  woman's  instinct.  "  She  does  not 
love  him,  and  has  never  loved  him.  How  could  she — 
that  block  of  ice — that  lump  of  marble.  She  tries  to  do  every- 
thing that's  right  and  good  towards  him,  because  he's  her 
husband,  and  she  ought  to  behave  so  to  him.  She's  a  good 
woman,  I'm  sure — a  pure,  good  woman;  her  soul's  in  her 
art,  and  she  tries  not  to  think  too  much  of  her  unhappiness. 
But  she  loves  somebody  else  best — and  she  knows  slie 
loves  him.  I  saw  it  in  her  eyes,  and  I  couldn't  be  deceived 
about  it." 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  Will  cried,  eagerly.  Her  words  were 
balm  to  him.  Rue  drew  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  don't  think  it; 
I  know  it,"  she  answered,  sadly. 

"  O  Rue,  how  good  you  are,"  Will  murmured,  with  a 
feeling  very  much  like  remorse.  "  What  other  woman  on 
earth  but  yourself  would  tell  me  so?  " 

Rue  sighed  a  second  time.  "  I  saw  it  in  her  eyes."  she 
went  on,  looking  hard  at  him  still,  "  when  first  she  noticed 
you ;  I  saw  it  still  more  when  that  dreadful  man  Lindner 
came  up  into  the  box,  and  she  wa'ted  trembling,  to  see 
what  was  going  to  happen.  I  watched  her  face ;  it  was  full 
of  terror.  But  it  wasn't  the  loving  terror  of  a  woman  who 
thinks  the  husband  she  adores  is  just  about  to  be  attacked ; 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 


247 


it  was  the  mere  physical  terror  of  a  shrinking  soul  at  the 
sight  of  a  crime,  a  quarrel,  a  scuffle.  You  saved  that  man's 
life,  Will ;  whether  you  know  it  or  not,  you  saved  it ;  for 
the  other  was  a  quarrelsome,  revengeful  fellow,  who  came 
there  fully  prepared,  as  Florian  told  us,  to  stab  his  rival. 
You  saved  his  life;  and  when  I  looked  at  yourself,  and 
Linnet  standing  by,  I  thought  at  the  time  what  a  bad  turn 
you  had  done " 

"  For  herf  "  Will  suggested,  in  a  very  low  tone. 

"  Oh  no,"  Rue  answered  aloud ;  "  not  for  her  alone,  but 
for  you  as  well — for  you  and  her — for  both  of  you." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


WEDDED  FELICITY 


SiGNORA  Casalmonte  scored  a  distinct  success.  She  was 
the  great  dramatic  and  musical  reality  of  that  London 
season.  All  the  world  flocked  to  hear  her ;  her  voice  made 
the  fortune  of  the  Harmony  Theater.  She  was  invited 
everywhere — "  You  must  have  the  Casalmonte,"  Florian 
laid  down  the  law  in  his  dictatorial  way  to  Belgravian 
hostesses — and  Andreas  Hausberger  went  always  in 
charge,  wherever  she  moved,  to  guard  his  splendid  operatic 
property.  And  what  care  Andreas  took  of  her!  It  was 
beautiful,  beautiful!  Unobservant  people  thought  him  a 
most  devoted  husband.  He  lingered  always  by  the  Sig- 
nora's  side ;  he  supplied  wraps  and  shawls  on  the  remotest 
threat  of  a  coming  chill ;  he  watched  what  she  ate  and 
drank  with  the  composite  eye  of  a  lynx  and  a  physician ; 
he  guarded  her  health  from  the  faintest  suspicion  of 
danger  in  any  way.  On  off-nights,  he  would  seldom  allow 
her  to  dine  out  or  attend  evening  parties;  on  Sundays, 
he  took  her  down  for  change  of  scene  and  fresh  air  to  the 
sea  or  the  country.  Ozone  was  his  hobby.  Every  day, 
the  prima  d^^nna  drove  out  in  the  Park,  and  then  walked 
for  exercise  a  full  hour  in  Kensington  Gardens.  Unob- 
servant people  set  all  this  down  to  the  account  of  the  do- 
mestic affections ;  Will  Deverill  noticed  rather  that  An- 
dreas guarded  his  wife  as  a  racing  man  guards  the  rising 
hope  of  his  stables.  Andreas  was  far  too  sensible  a  man 
of  the  world  to  run  any  needless  risks  with  the  throat  of 
the  woman  who  made  his  fortune.  He  had  staked  a  great 
deal  on  her,  and  he  meant  to  be  repaid  with  compound  in- 
terest. 

As  for  London  itself,  it  went  wild  about  Linnet.  Twas 
the  Casalmonte  here,  the  Casalmonte  there;  the  dwa  will 
sing  at  Lady  Smith's  to-night ;  the  diva  will  go  with  Sir 
Thomas  Brown  and  party  to  supper.    Linnet's  head  was 

248 


WEDDED  FELICITY 


249 


half-turned  with  so  much  admiration;  if  she  hadn't  been 
Linnet,  indeed,  it  would  have  been  turned  altogether.  But 
that  simple  childlike  nature,  though  artistically  developed 
and  intellectually  expanded,  remained  in  emotion  as 
straightforward  and  unaffected  and  confiding  as  ever. 
Still,  that  season  did  the  best  it  knew  to  spoil  her.  She 
was  queen  of  the  situation.  It  rained  choice  flowers ; 
diamond  bracelets  and  painted  fans  showered  down  upon 
her  plentifully.  Linnet  accepted  all  this  homage,  hardly 
realizing  its  money  worth ;  she  was  pleased  if  she  gave 
pleasure ;  what  others  gave  in  return,  she  took  as  her  right, 
quite  simply  and  naturally.  This  charm  of  her  simplicity 
surprised  and  delighted  all  who  grew  to  know  her;  she 
had  none  of  the  affected  airs  and  graces  of  the  everyday 
great  singer;  she  sang  because  she  must;  at  heart  she 
was,  as  always,  the  mountain-bred  peasant-girl. 

Will  Deverill  saw  but  little  of  her.  Twas  better  so,  he 
knew,  and  kinder  so  for  Linnet.  Once  or  twice  that  year, 
however,  he  supped  after  the  theater  in  the  Strand  with 
"  the  Hausbergers,"  as  he  had-  learned  to  call  them.  On 
all  these  occasions,  he  noticed,  Andreas  watched  his  wife 
close.  "  One  glass  of  champagne.  Linnet ;  you  remember, 
last  time,  when  you  dined  at  the  Mowbrays',  you  took  two 
glasses,  and  you  sang  next  day  very  much  less  well  for 
it " ;  or  else — "  if  I  were  you,  Linnet,  I  wouldn't  touch 
that  lobster.  It  disagreed  with  you  once,  and  I  noticed  in 
the  evening  one  or  two  of  your  high  notes  were  decidedly 
not  so  clear  or  so  sharp  as  usual." 

"  But,  Andreas,"  Linnet  answered,  on  one  such  occa- 
sion, "  I'm  sure  it  doesn't  hurt  me.  I  must  take  some- 
thing. I've  hardly  eaten  a  single  mouthful  yet,  and  to- 
night I'm  so  hungry." 

"  It  does  you  no  harm  to  be  hungry,"  Andreas  an- 
swered, philosophically.  "  Nobody  ever  reproached  himself 
afterwards  for  having  eaten  too  little.  A  taste  of  some- 
thing to  eat,  after  playing  a  trying  part  like  Melinda,  before 
you  go  to  bed,  helps  you  to  sleep  sound,  and  keeps  you  well 
and  healthy ;  but  a  square  meal  at  this  hour  can't  be  good 
for  anybody.  It  interferes  with  rest ;  and  what  interferes 
with  rest,  tells,  of  course,  upon  the  voice — which  is  very 
serious.  You  may  have  a  bit  of  that  sweetbread,  if  you 
like — no ;  that's  a  great  deal  too  much ;  half  that  quantity, 


'^  ii 


250 


LINNET 


ft 


if  you  please,  Mr.  Florian.  Pull  your  woollen  thing  over 
your  shoulders,  so,  Linnet;  there's  a  draught  from  that 
door!  I  can't  have  you  getting  as  hoarse  as  a  fiog  to- 
night, with  the  Prince  and  Princess  coming  to  hear  you 
on  Monday! " 

**  Why  on  earth  does  she  stand  it?"  Florian  asked  of 
Will  afterwards,  as  they  walked  home  together  down  the 
unpeopled  Strand.  "  I  can't  make  it  out.  There  she's 
earning  Heaven  only  knows  iiow  much  a  night,  and  fill- 
ing the  treasury ;  yet  she  allows  this  fellow  to  bully  her  and 
badger  her  like  this ;  to  dictate  to  her  how  much  she's 
to  eat  and  to  drink;  to  make  her  whole  life  one  perpetual 
torment  to  her.  Why  doesn't  she  rise  and  strike  for  free- 
dom, 1  wonder?  He'd  have  to  come  to  terms;  she's  too 
useful  to  him,  you  see,  for  him  to  risk  a  quarrel  with  iier." 

*'  She's  too  good — that's  where  it  is,"  Will  responded, 
with  a  tinge  of  stifled  sadness  in  his  voice ;  "  and,  besides, 
she  doesn't  care  for  him." 

"  Of  course  she  doesn't,"  Florian  answered,  airily. 
"  How  could  she,  indeed ! — a  mass  of  selfishness  like  hini ! 
— so  mean,  so  sordid!  But  that  only  makes  it  all  the 
stranger  she  should  ever  put  up  with  it.  H  she  doesn't 
love  him,  why  on  earth  does  she  permit  him  to  dictate  to 
her  as  he  does — to  order  her  and  domineer  over  her?  " 

"  Ah,  that's  how  it  looks  to  you,"  Will  answered,  with 
a  sigh ;  ''  but  Linnet — well.  Linnet  sees  thing's  otherwise. 
You  must  remember,  Florian,  above  all  things,  she's  a 
Catholic.  She  doesn't  love  that  man,  but  she's  entered 
with  him  into  the  sacrament  of  marriage.  To  her,  it  has 
all  a  religious  significance.  The  less  slie  loves  Andreas, 
the  more  does  she  feel  she  m.ust  honor  and  obey  him,  and 
be  a  good  true  wife  to  him.  If  she  loved  him,  she  might 
perhaps  sometimes  rebel  a  little ;  because  she  doesn't  love 
him,  she  has  become  a  mere  slave  to  do  his  bidding." 

"  I  suppose  that's  it,"  Florian  answered,  swinging  his 
stick  in  his  hand,  and  stepping  along  gingerly.'' Z^ro/c  de 
croyance,  isn't  it?  Still.  I  call  it  disgraceful.  An  ex- 
quisite creature  like  that — a  divinely-inspired  singer,  a 
supply-molded  form  of  Hellenic  sculpture,  whom  tlio 
Gods  above  have  given  us  as  a  precious  gift  for  the  com- 
mon delight  and  the  common  enjoyment — to  be  thwarted 
and  pulled  up  short  at  every  twist  and  turn — and  by  whom, 


WEDDED  FELICITY 


251 


I'd  like  to  know  ?  Why,  by  a  Tyrolese  innkeeper — a  mere 
village  host — who  arrogates  to  himself  the  right  of  monop- 
olizing what  Heaven  meant  for  us  all — Acli!  I  call  it  de- 
testable, just  simply  detestable.  He  hardly  allows  her 
enough  to  eat  and  drink.  She  might  just  as  well  be  a 
sciincrin  on  her  hillside  again,  for  any  pleasure  or  delight 
she  gets  out  of  her  success,  tied  and  hampered  as  she  is 
with  this  creature  Hausberger." 

"  That's  quite  true,"  Will  replied.  "  She  was  happier 
in  the  Ziilerthal.  She  has  money,  and  fine  dresses,  ."^nd 
jewellery,  and  applause ;  but,  for  any  good  they  can  f'  i  '  r 
she  might  as  well  be  without  them.  Hausberger  tre  (s  her 
as  a  mere  machine  for  making  money  for  him.  He's  cpf  • 
ful  to  see  the  machine  works  thoroughly  well,  and  doesn't 
get  out  of  order — absurdly  careful,  in  fact,  for  he's  by 
nature  over-cautious ;  but  as  for  allowing  her  to  tnjcy 
anything  of  what  she  earns  herself,  in  any  reasonable 
way — why,  it  never  even  occurs  to  him." 

"Do  you  think  lie's  unkind  to  her?"  Florian  asked, 
somewhat  carelessly.  "  I  mean,  do  you  think  he  ill-tieats 
her — kce|is  her  short,  and  so  forth  ?  " 

"  He  doesn't  actively  ill-treat  her,  I'm  sure,"  Will  an- 
swered with  confidence ;  "  he  has  far  too  great  a  sense  of 
the  value  of  her  health  to  do  anything  to  injure  it.  And 
T  don't  suppose  he  even  keeps  her  actually  short ;  she's 
always  beautifully  dressed,  of  course — that's  part  of  the 
advertiseniont ;  and  he  takes  her  about  as  much  as  he  can, 
without  risk  to  her  voice,  and  lavishes  a  certain  sort  of 
wooden  care  upon  her.  Hut  I  don't  think  he  ever  regards 
her  as  a  human  being  at  all ;  he  regards  her  as  a  delicate 
musiv.tl  instrument  in  which  he  has  invested  money,  and 
out  of  which,  during  a  given  n.miber  of  years,  he  has  to 
recoup  himself  and  make  h"s  fortune.  As  to  sympathy 
between  them,  wh) .  laturallv.  that's  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion ;  lie's  a  harsh,  stern  man  who  hardly  knows  how  to  be 
kinrl,  I  should  say,  to  anyone." 

Florian  brr)ii^!i(  down  his  stick  on  ihe  pavement  with  a 
bang.  "It's  atrocious."  he  said,  snorting;  "I  declare, 
quite  atrocious.  Here's  this  exf|uisite  creature — a  banquet 
fit  for  the  Gods—  w'fh  her  superb  voice  and  her  queenly 
beauty ;  a  creature  almost  too  ethereal  for  ordinary  hu- 
manity to  touch  or  hm^l^;  one  that  .should  be  reserved 


F.  .    m 


252 


LINNET 


by  common  consent  for  the  delectation  of  the  very  pink  and 
pick  of  the  species  " — and  he  drew  himself  up  to  his  five 
feet  nothing  with  a  full  consciousness  of  his  own  claim  to 
be  duly  enrolled  in  that  select  category — "  here's  this 
exquisite  creature,  who  should  be  held  in  trust,  as  it  were, 
for  the  noblest  and  truest  and  best  of  our  kind — a  Koh-i- 
noor  among  women — flung  away  upon  a  solid,  stolid, 
three-per-cent.  investing,  money-grubbincr.  German-speak- 
ing beerhouse-keeper.  Pah !  It  makes  me  sick !  This 
Danae  to  a  satyr!  How  a  Greek  would  have  writhed 
at  it !  " 

"  And  yet  I  thought,"  Will  murmured,  reflectively, 
with  a  quiet  little  smile,  "  you  considered  her  a  cow-girl, 
and  looked  upon  her  as  just  fit  for  gentlemen  to  plav 
skittles  with !  " 

It  too  a  great  deal  to  abash  Florian.  He  paused  for 
a  second,  then  he  answered  with  warmth,  '*  Now,  there, 
Deverill!  that's  just  like  you.  You  want  me  to  be  con- 
sistent! But  the  philosophic  mind,  as  Herbert  Spencer 
remarks,  is  always  open  to  modification  by  circumstances. 
Consistency  is  the  virtue  of  the  Philistine  intellect;  it 
means,  inability  to  march  abreast  with  events,  to  readjust 
one's  ideas,  one's  sympathies,  one's  sentiments,  to  the  ever- 
changing  face  of  circumambient  nature.  When  we  saw 
Linnet  first  in  the  Tyrol,  long  ago,  why,  the  girl  was  a 
cow-girl ;  a  cow-girl  she  was,  and  cow-girl  I  called  her. 
I  frankly  recognize  the  facts  of  life  as  I  found  them — 
though  I  saw  even  then,  with  a  voice  like  that,  there  was 
no  perilous  pinnacle  of  name  or  fame  to  which  fate  might 
not  summon  her.  Now  that  she  reappears  in  London 
once  more,  a  flaming  meteor  of  song,  the  cynosure  of 
neighboring  eyes,  a  flashing  diamond  of  the  purest  water, 
I  recognize  equally  the  altered  facts.  I  allow  that  train- 
ing, education,  travel,  the  society  of  cultivated  men  and 
women,  have  practically  made  a  brand-new  Linnet  of  her. 
It"?  that  brand-new  Linnet  I  admire  and  adore — that  queen 
of  the  stage,  not  the  Tyrolese  cow-girl." 

Will  turned  sharp  down  Craven  Street.  "  And  I,"  he 
said,  with  a  Parthian  shot.  "  I  admire  and  adore  the  real 
woman  herself — the  same  Linnet  still  that  we  knew  in  the 
Zillerthal." 

Meanwhile,  Andreas  Hausberger,  lighting  a  big  cigar, 


WEDDED  FELICITY 


253 


had  taken  his  wife  down  to  a  cab  outside  the  supper- 
room. 

*'  O  Andreas !  "  Linnet  cried,  in  German,  "  you've  called 
a  hansom.  I  can't  bear  those  things,  you  know.  I 
wanted  a  four-wheeler." 

Andreas  looked  at  her  fixedly.  "  Get  in !  "  he  said, 
with  curt  decision.  "  Don't  stand  and  talk  like  that  out 
here  in  the  cold  street,  opening  your  throat  in  this  foggy 
a'r  after  those  overheated  rooms.  It's  simply  ridiculous. 
And  mind  you  don't  knock  your  dress  against  that  muddy 
wheel !  Pick  it  up,  I  say !  pick  it  up !  You  arc  so  care- 
less ! " 

"  But,  Andreas !  "  Linnet  exclaimed,  in  an  hnpioring 
)ne,  "  I  hate  these  hansoms  so.  Whenever  I  go  in  one, 
he  horse  invariably  either  kicks  or  jibs.  I  wish,  just  this 
once,  you'd  let  me  have  a  four-wheeler." 

She  spoke  almost  coaxingly.  Andreas  turned  to  her 
with  an  angry  German  oath.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  get 
in  at  once  ? "  he  cried.  "  Pull  that  thing  over  your 
shoulder.  Don't  stand  here  chattering  and  catching  cold 
all  nighi.  Jump  in  when  I  bid  you.  A  prettv  sort  of 
thing,  indeed,  if  you're  going  to  stop  and  discuss  in  a  dress 
like  that  on  an  English  evening  upo".  these  muddy  pave- 
ments !  "  He  helped  her  up  the  step,  guarding  her  skirt 
with  one  hand,  and  jumped  after  her  sulkily,  "  Avenue 
Road,  St.  John's  Wood !  "  he  called  out  through  the  flap 
to  the  attentive  cabman.  "  Half-past  twelve !  Ach,  don- 
ner-zvetter!  How  late  we've  stayed!  We'll  have  to  pay 
double  fare!    Have  you  got  your  purse  with  you?" 

"Yes"  Linnet  half  sobbed  out;  "but  I've  hardly  any 
money — '  enough  for  the  cab  in  it.  You  gave  me  half- 
a-sovereign,  you  know,  and  I  paid  for  those  gloves,  and 
got  a  new  bottle  nf  that  mixture  at  the  chemist's." 

"  Only  three  shillings  left !  "  Andreas  exclaimed,  open- 
ing the  purse,  and  .screwing  his  mouth  up  curiously. 
"Only  three  shilling's  left,  out  of  a  whole  half  sovereign! 
So!  London's  the  denre-^t  town  for  evervthing  on  earth 
T  ever  lived  in.  Onlv  three  shillings  left!  Well,  that's 
enough  for  the  cab ;  it's  a  one-and-sixpenny  fare,  and  I 
rather  think  thev  double  it  at  midnight." 

"Mayn't  T  have  sixpence  over  for  frink(^cldf"  Linnet 
ventured  to  inquire,  in  a  timid  voice.    "  When  they  go  so 


t'l 


^54 


LINNET 


.  !'! 


far  at  this  time  of  night,  they  always  expect  something." 

"  No ;  certainly  not,"  Andreas  answered ;  "  why  on  earth 
should  you  give  it  to  them?  If  you  or  I  expect  some- 
thing, do  other  people  make  that  any  reason  for  giving  it 
us?  Three  shillings  is  the  legal  fare;  if  he  doesn't  like 
that — there's  no  compulsion — he  needn't  be  a  cabman 
Three-and-sixpence  indeed!  why  you  talk  as  if  it  was 
water!  Three-and-sixpence  is  a  lot  to  spend  on  oneself 
in  a  single  evening." 

"  I  should  have  thought  so  at  St.  Valentin,"  Linnet 
answered,  softly ;  "  but  I  earn  so  much,  now.  You  must 
save  a  great  deal,  Andreas." 

"  And  I  spent  a  great  deal  in  getting"  vou  ti  ained  and 
educated,"  Andreas  retorted  with  a  sneer.  "  But  that's 
all  forgotten.  You  never  think  about  that.  You  talk  as 
though  it  was  you  yourself  by  your  unaided  skill  who 
earned  all  the  money.  How  could  you  ever  have  earned 
it,  I  should  like  to  know,  if  I  hadn't  put  you  in  the  way 
of  getting  a  thorough  musical  training?  You  were  a 
sennerin  when  I  married  you — and  now  you're  a  lady. 
Signora.  Besides,  there's  your  dress;  remember,  that 
swallows  up  a  good  third  of  what  we  earn.  I  say  ivc  ad- 
visedly, for  the  capital  invested  earns  its  share  of  the  total 
just  as  truly  as  you  do." 

**  But,  Andreas,  I  only  want  sixpence,"  Linnet  pleaded, 
earnestly.  "  For  the  poor  cold  cabman !  I'm  sure  I  don't 
spend  much-  -not  compared  with  what  I  get;  and  the 
man  iooks  old  and  cold  and  tired.  I  ought  to  have  a 
shilling  or  two  a  week  for  pocket  money.  It's  like  a  child 
to  have  to  ask  yoii  for  every  penny  I'm  spending." 

Andreas  pulled  out  half-a-crown.  which  he  handed  her 
grudgingly.  "  There,  take  that,  and  hold  your  tongue," 
he  said.  "  It's  no  use  speaking  to  you.  I  told  you  before 
not  to  talk  '"n  this  misty  air.  If  you  don't  care  yourself 
whether  it  hurts  you  or  not,  you  owe  it  to  me,  at  least  after 
all  I've  done  for  you." 

Linnet  lennt  back  in  her  place,  and  began  to  cry  silently. 
She  U't  the  tears  trickle  one  by  one  down  .ler  cheeks.  As 
Andreas  grew  richer,  she  thought,  he  grew  harder  and 
harder  to  her.  For  some  minutes,  however,  her  husband 
didn't  seem  even  to  notice  her  tears.  Then  he  turned 
upon  her  suddenly.  "  If  you're  going  to  do  like  that,"  he 


WEDDED  FELICITY 


^55 


said,  "  your  eyes'll  be  too  red  and  swollen  to  appear  at  all 
on  Monday — and  vvhat'll  happen  then,  I'd  like  to  know, 
Signora.  Dry  them  up;  dry  them  up  at  once,  1  tell  you. 
Haven't  I  given  you  the  money  ?  " 

Linnet  dried  her  eyes  as  she  was  bid ;  she  always  obeyed 
him.  But  she  thought  involuntarily  of  how  kind  Will  had 
been,  and  how  nicely  he  had  spoken  to  her.  And  then — 
oh,  then,  she  clasped  the  little  Madonna  hard  in  her  fist 
once  more,  and  prayed  low  to  be  given  strength  to  endure 
her  burden ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


PLAYING  WITH   FIRE 


And  yet,  Linnet  was  happier  that  first  season  in  London 
than  ever  before  since  her  marriage  with  Andreas.  She 
knew  well  why.  In  fear  and  trembling,  with  many  a  qualm 
of  conscience,  she  nevertheless  confessed  to  herself  the 
simple  truth ;  it  was  that  Will  was  near,  and  she  felt  at  all 
times  dimly  conscious  of  his  nearness.  .Not  that  she  saw 
much  of  him ;  both  she  and  Will  sedulously  avoided  that 
pitfall ;  but  from  time  to  time  they  met,  for  the  most  part 
by  accident ;  and  even  when  they  didn't,  she  knew  instinc- 
tively Will  was  watching  over  her  unseen,  and  guarding 
her.  She  was  no  longer  alone  in  the  great  outer  -.vorld ; 
she  had  some  one  to  love  her,  to  care  for  her,  to  observe 
her.  Often,  as  she  sang,  her  eyes  fell  on  his  face  upturned 
in  the  stalls  towards  her ;  her  heart  gave  a  throb ;  she 
faltered  and  half-paused — then  went  on  again  all  the  hap- 
pier. Often,  too,  as  she  walked  in  Kensington  Gardens 
with  Andreas,  Will  would  happen  to  pass  by — so  natural 
for  a  man  who  lives  in  Craven  Street,  Strand,  to  be  stroll- 
ing of  an  afternoon  in  Kensington  Gardens ! — and  when- 
ever he  passed,  he  stopped  and  spoke  a  few  words  to  her, 
which  Linnet  answered  in  her  pretty,  hardly  foreign  Eng- 
lish. 

"  How  well  you  speak  now !  "  Will  exclaimed,  one  such 
day,  as  she  described  to  him  in  glowing  terms  some 
duchess's  house  she  had  lately  visited. 

The  delicate  glow  that  rose  so  readily  to  that  rich  brown 
cheek  flushed  Linnet's  face  once  more  as  she  answered, 
well  pleased,  'Oh  yes!  I  had  so  many  reasons,  you  see. 
Herr  Will,  for  learning  it!" — she  called  him  Herr  ^"^ill 
even  in  English  still — it  was  a  familiar  sound,  and  for  old 
times'  sake  she  loved  it; — then  she  added,  half-shamc- 
facedly,  "  Andreas  always  said  it  was  wiser  so ;  I  should 
make  my  best  fortunes  in  England  and  America." 

Will  nodded,  and  passed  on,  pretending  not  to  catch  at 

256 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 


257 


her  half-suppressed  meaning;  but  he  knew  in  his  own 
heart  what  her  chief  reason  was  for  taking  so  much  pains 
to  improve  her  EngHsh. 

They  saw  but  little  of  one  another,  to  be  sure,  and  that 
little  by  chance;  though  Andreas  Hausberger,  at  least, 
made  no  effort  to  keep  them  apart.  On  the  contrary,  if 
ever  they  met  by  appointment  at  all,  'twas  at  Andreas's  own 
special  desire  or  invitation.  The  wise  IVirth  of  St.  Val- 
entin was  too  prudent  a  man  to  give  way,  like  Franz  Lind- 
ner, to  pettish  freaks  of  pure  personal  jealousy.  He 
noted,  indeed,  that  Linnet  was  happiest  when  she  saw  most 
of  Will  Deverill ;  not  many  things  escaped  that  keen  ob- 
server's vision.  But  when  Linnet  was  happiest  she  always 
sang  best.  Therefore  Andreas,  being  a  wise  and  prudent 
man,  rather  threw  them  together  noww.nd  again  than  other- 
wise. That  cool  head  of  his  never  allowed  anything  to  in- 
terfere with  the  course  of  business ;  he  was  too  sure  of 
Liimet  to  be  afraid  of  losing  her.  It  was  a  voice  he  had 
married,  not  a  living,  breathing  woman — an  exquisite 
voice,  with  all  its  glorious  potentialities  of  wealth  untold, 
now  beginning  to  flow  in  upon  him  that  season  in  London. 

But  to  Linnet  herself,  struggling  hard  in  her  own  soul 
with  the  love  she  could  not  repress,  and  would  never  ac- 
knowledge, it  was  a  very  great  comfort  that  she  could  salve 
her  conscience  with  that  thought:  she  seldom  saw  Will 
save  at  Andreas's  invitation ! 

The  next  three  years  of  the  new  singer's  life  were  years 
of  rapid  rise  to  fame,  wealth,  and  honor.  Signora  Casal- 
monte  grew  quickly  to  be  a  universal  favorite,  not  in  Lon- 
don alone,  but  also  in  Berlin,  Vienna,  Paris.  'Twas  a 
wonderful  change,  indeed,  from  the  old  days  in  the  Ziller- 
thal.  Her  name  was  noised  abroad  ;  crowned  heads  bowed 
down  to  her;  Serene  Highnesses  whispered  love;  Arch- 
dukes brought  compliments  and  diamond  necklaces.  No 
one  mounts  so  fast  to  fame  as  the  successful  sineer.  She 
must  make  her  reputation  while  she  is  young  and  beauti- 
ful. She  may  come  from  nowhere,  but  she  steps  almost  at 
once  into  the  front  rank  of  society.  It  is  so  with  all  of 
them ;  it  was  so  w'th  Lmnet.  But  to  Will  she  was  always 
the  same  old  Linnet  still ;  he  thought  no  more  of  her,  and 
he  thought  no  less,  than  he  had  thought  in  those  brief  days 
of  first  love  in  the  Tyrol. 


2S8 


LINNET 


■i' 


At  the  end  of  Linnet's  first  London  season,  after  some 
weeks  in  Paris,  when  August  came  around,  Andreas  took 
his  wife  for  her  yearly  villeggiatura  to  a  hill-top  in  Swit- 
zerland. He  was  for  ozone  still ;  he  be''eved  as  much  as 
ever  in  the  restorative  value  of  mountain  air  and  simple 
life  for  a  vocalist.  It  gave  tone  to  the  larynx,  he  said, 
and  tightened  the  vocal  chords:  for  he  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  read  up  the  mechanism  of  voice  production.  So 
he  carried  off  Liniiet  to  an  upland  village  perched  high  on 
the  slopes  behind  the  Lake  of  Thun — not  to  a  great  hotel 
or  crowded  pension,  where  she  would  breathe  bad  air,  eat 
made  French  dishes,  drink  doubtful  wine,  keep  very  late 
hours,  and  mix  with  exciting  company,  but  to  a  chalet 
nestling  high  beneath  a  clambering  pine-wood,  among 
Alpine  pastures  thick  with  orchids  and  globe-flowers, 
where  she  might  live  as  free  and  inhale  as  pure  and  un- 
polluted an  atmosphere  as  in  their  own  green  Zillerthal. 
For  reasons  of  his  own,  indeed,  Andreas  wouldn't  take  her 
to  St.  Valentin,  lest  the  homesickness  of  the  mountaineer 
should  come  over  her  too  strong  when  she  returned  once 
more  to  London  or  Berlin.  But  he  chose  this  lofty  Bernese 
hamlet  as  the  next  best  thing  to  their  native  vale  to  be 
found  in  Europe.  There,  for  six  happy  weeks.  Linnet 
drank  in  once  more  the  fresh  mountain  breeze,  blowing 
cool  from  the  glaciers, — climbed,  as  of  old,  among  alp 
and  crag  and  rock  and  larch  forest — felt  the  soft  fresh  turf 
rise  elastic  under  her  light  foot  as  she  sprang  from  tussock 
to  tussock  of  firmer  grass  among  the  peaty  sward  of  the 
hillside. 

Before  leaving  town  that  summer,  she  had  lunched  once 
with  Will  at  Florian's  chambers  and  mentioned  to  him 
casually  in  the  course  of  talk  the  name  and  position  of 
their  Bernese  village.  Will  bore  it  well  in  mind.  A  week 
or  two  later,  as  Linnet  strolled  by  herself  in  a  simple  tweed 
frock  and  a  light  straw  hat  among  the  upland  pastures, 
she  saw  to  her  surprise  a  very  familiar  figure  in  a  grey 
knickerbocker  suit,  winding  slowly  along  the  path  from 
the  direction  of  Beatenberg.  Kcr  heart  leapt  ufj  within 
her  with  joy  at  the  sight.  Ach,  himmel!  what  was  this? 
It  was  her  Englander,  her  poet !  Then  he  had  remembered 
where  she  was  going;  he  had  come  after  her  to  meet  her! 

Next  moment,  she  reproached  herself  with  a  bitter  re- 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 


259 


ter  some 
reas  took 
in  Swit- 
much  as 
id  simple 

he  said, 
aken  the 
ction.  So 
1  high  on 
reat  hotel 
d  air,  eat 
very  late 

a  chalet 
1,  among 
e-flovvers. 
t  and  un- 
Zillerthal. 
t  take  her 
luntaineer 
rned  once 
y  Bernese 
ale  to  be 
s,  Linnet 

blowing 
nong  alp 

resh  turf 
Ti  tussock 
rd  of  the 

hed  once 
to  him 
)sition  of 
A  week 
pie  tweed 
pastures, 
In  a  grey 
ath  from 
if)  within 
was  this? 
nembered 
Tieet  her ! 
bitter  re- 


proach. The  little  oval  Madonna,  which  kept  its  place  still 
round  her  neck  amid  all  her  new  magnificence,  felt  another 
hard  grip  on  its  sorely  tried  margin.  Oh,  Dear  Lady, 
pardon  her,  that  her  heart  should  so  jump  for  a  stranger 
and  a  heretic — which  never  jumped  at  all  for  her  wedded 
husband. 

The  Church  knew  best !  The  Church  knew  best !  For 
her  soul's  sake,  no  doubt,  the  Herr  Vicar  was  right — 
and  dear  Herr  Will  was  a  heretic.  But  if  only  they  had 
wedded  her  to  Herr  Will  instead, — her  heart  gave  a  great 
thump — oh,  how  she  would  have  loved  him ! 

Though  now,  as  things  stood,  of  course,  she  could  never 
care  for  him. 

And  with  that  wise  resolve  in  her  heart,  and  Our  Lady 
clasped  hard  in  her  trembling  hand. — she  stepped  forth 
with  beaming  eyes  and  parted  lips  to  greet  him. 

Will  came  up,  a  little  embarrassed.  He  had  no  inten- 
tion, when  he  set  out,  of  meeting  Linnet  thus  casually.  It 
was  his  design  to  call  in  due  form  at  the  chalet  and  ask 
decorously  for  Andreas ;  it  made  him  feel  like  a  thief  in 
the  night  to  have  lighted,  thus  unawares,  upon  Linnet 
alone,  without  her  husband's  knowledge.  However,  awk- 
ward circumstances  zvill  arise  now  and  again,  and  we  have 
all  of  us  to  face  them.  Will  took  her  hand,  a  trifle  abashed, 
but  still  none  the  less  cordially.  "  What,  Frau  Haus- 
berger !  "  he  cried  in  German — and  Linnet  winced  at  the 
formal  name,  though  of  course  it  was  what  he  now  always 
called  her ;  "  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here,  though  I  was 
coming  to  ask  after  ....  your  husband  in  the 
village,"  and  he  glanced  down  at  his  feet  with  a  little 
nervous  confusion. 

"  I  saw  you  coming."  Linnet  answered,  in  English,  for 
she  loved  best  to  speak  with  her  Englander  in  his  own 
language ;  "  and  I  knew  that  it  was  you,  so  I  came  on  to 
meet  you.  Isn't  it  lovely  here?  Just  like  my  own  dear 
Fatherland!" 

Will  was  hot  and  dusty  with  his  long  tramp  from  In- 
terlaken.  It  was.  a  broiling  day.  He  sat  down  by  Linnet's 
side  on  the  grassy  slope  that  looks  across  towards  the 
lake  and  the  great  snow-clad  gianiz  of  the  Bernese  Ober- 
land.  That  was  the  very  first  time  he  had  been  quite  alone 
with  her  since  she  married  Andreas.    The  very  first  time 


26o 


LINNET 


since  those  delicious  mornings  on  the  vine-draped  Kiichel- 
berg.  They  sat  there  lon^  and  talked.  Linnet  picking  tall 
grasses  all  the  while  with  her  twitching  fingers,  and  pulling 
them  into  joints,  and  throwing  them  away  bit  by  bit,  with 
her  eyes  fixed  hard  on  them.  After  a  time  as  they  sat,  and 
grew  more  at  home  with  one  another,  they  fell  naturally 
into  talk  of  the  old  days  at  St.  Valentin.  They  were  both 
of  them  timid,  and  both  self-conscious ;  yet  in  the  open  air, 
out  there  on  that  Alpine  hillside,  it  all  seemed  so  familiar, 
so  homely,  so  simple — so  like  those  lost  hours  long  ago  in 
the  Zillerthal — that  by  degrees  their  shyness  and  reserve 
wore  oflf,  and  they  fell  to  talking  more  easily  and  unre- 
strainedly. Once  or  twice  Will  even  called  her  "  Linnet." 
tout  court,  without  noticing  it ;  but  Linnet  noticed  it  her- 
self, and  felt  a  thrill  of  strange  joy,  followed  fast  by  a 
pang  of  intense  remorse,  course  through  her  as  she  sat 
there. 

By-and-by,  their  talk  got  round  by  slow  degrees  to 
London.  Linnet  had  seen  one  of  Will's  pieces  at  the 
Duke  of  Edi  urgh's,  in  June,  and  adnrred  it  immensely. 
"  How  I  should  love  to  sing  in  something  of  your  com- 
posing, Herr  Will,"  she  exclaimed,  with  fervor.  "  Just 
for  old  times'  sake,  you  know — when  neither  of  us  was 
well-known,  and  when  we  met  at  St.  Valentin." 

Will  looked  down  a  little  nervously.  "  I've  often 
thought."  he  said,  with  a  stifled  sigh ;  "  I  should  love  to 
write  something  on  purpose  for  you.  Linnet.  I  know  your 
voice  and  its  capabilities  so  well,  I've  watched  you  so  close 
— for  your  career  has  interested  me ;  and  I  think  it  would 
inspire  one,  both  in  the  lines  and  in  the  music,  to  know 
one  was  working  for  a  person  one — well  .  .  .  one  knew 
and  liked,  and  .  .  .  had  met  before,  under  other  cir- 
cumstances." 

He  looked  away,  and  hesitated.  Linnet  clasped  lier 
hands  in  front  of  her  between  her  knees^  on  her  simple 
tweed  frock,  and  stared  studiously  at  the  mountains.  "  Oh, 
that  would  be  lovely ! "  she  cried,  pressing  her  fingers 
ecstatically.  "  That  would  be  charming !  that  would  be 
beautiful!  I  should  love  that  I  should  sing  In  something 
you'd  written,  and,  above  all,  in  something  you'd  written 
for  me,  Will.    I'm  sure  it  would  inspire  me  too — it  wouM 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 


261 


inspire  both  oi  us.  I  do  not  think  you  could  wr'tc  for  any- 
body, or  I  could  sing  for  anybody,  as  we  could  write  and 
sing,  each  one  of  us,  for  one  another.  Wc  should  do  our- 
selves justice  then.     Why  don't  you  try  it?  " 

She  looked  deep  into  his  eyes.  Will  quailed,  and  felt 
his  heart  stand  still  within  him.  "  There  are  difficulties  in 
the  way,  my  child,"  he  answered,  deliberating.  "  You're 
more  or  less  bound  to  the  Harmony  I  think;  and  I'm 
more  or  less  bound  to  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh's.  And 
then,  there's  Herr  Hausberger  to  consider  as  well.  Even 
if  zve  could  arrange  things  with  our  respective  managers, 
do  you  think  he'd  be  likely  to  fall  in  with  our  arrange- 
ments ?  " 

Linnet  seized  his  arm  impulsively.  With  these  warm 
southern  natures,  sucli  acts  arc  natural,  and  mean  less 
than  with  us  northerners.  *'  Oh.  do  try,  dear  Herr  Will !  " 
she  exclaimed,  bending  forward  in  earnest  entreaty.  **  Do 
try  if  we  can't  manage  it.  Never  mind  about  Andreas. 
I'm  sure  he  would  consent,  if  he  saw  it  was  a  good  piece, 
and  I  could  sing  in  it  with  spirit.  And  I  would  sing  in  it 
— ach,  lieber  Gott, — how  well  I  would  sine  in  it!  You 
would  see  what  I  could  do,  then!  It  would  be  splendid, 
splendid ! " 

"  But  I'm  afraid  Willdon  Blades " 

Linnet  cut  him  short  impatiently,  jerking  her  little  curled 
forefinger  with  a  contemptuous  gesture.  "  What  matter 
about  Willdon  Blades !  "  she  cried.  "  We  can  easily  settle 
him.  If  you  and  I  decide  to  work  this  play  together,  the 
manager  must  give  in:  we  can  arrange  it  somehow."  And 
she  looked  at  him  vvith  more  conscious  dignity  and  beauty 
than  usual ;  for,  simple  peasant-girl  as  she  was,  and  a  child 
still  at  heart,  she  knew  by  this  time  she  was  also  a  queen  of 
the  opera.  How  the  gommcux  had  crowded  her  salon  in 
her  Paris  hotel ;  how  great  ladies  had  fought  for  stalls  at 
her  triumphant  prcmibrc! 

"  I  m'ght  think  about  it,"  Will  answered,  after  a  brief 
pau.se,  half-alarmed  at  her  eagerness.  Was  it  not  too 
dangerous  ? 

But  Linnet,  quite  sure  in  her  own  soul  she  was  urging 
him  from  purely  artistic  motives,  had  no  such  scruples. 
"  Do  try,"  she  cried,  laying  her  hand  impulsively  on  his 


'll 


262 


LINNET 


arm  once  more.  "  Now,  promise  me  you'll  try !  Begin 
to-day!  I  should  love  to  see  what  sort  of  a  part  you'd 
write  for  me." 

Will  stammered,  and  hesitated.  "  Well,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I've  begun  already.  Linnet,"  he  answered,  fingering 
the  pencil-case  that  hung  from  his  watch  chain  with  ill- 
concealed  agitation.  "  I've  been  walking  about  for  a  fort- 
night through  the  mountains  alone — Florian  wanted  to 
come,  but  I  wouldn't  bring  him  with  me,  that  I  might  have 
time  for  thinking;  and  everything  I  saw  seemed  somehow 
to  recall  .  .  .  well,  why  shouldn't  I  confess  it? — those 
days  on  the  Kiichelberg.  1  thought  of  you  a  great  deal — 
I  mean  of  your  voice  and  the  sort  of  words  and  chords  that 
would  be  likely  to  suit  you.  I  always  compose  best  in 
the  open  air.  The  breeze  whispers  bars  to  me.  And  I've 
begun  a  few  songs — just  your  part  in  the  play,  you  know 
— words  and  airs  together,  Wagner-wise — that's  how  I 
always  do  it.  The  country  I  passed  through  brought  the 
music  of  itself ;  it  all  spoke  to  me  direct — and  I  thought  it 
would  be  something  new  to  bring  th's  breezy  Alpine  air 
to  freshen  the  stuffy  atmosphere  of  a  London  theater." 

"  Have  you  got  what  you've  done  with  you  ?  "  Linnet 
inquired,  with  deep  interest. 

"  It's  here  in  my  knapsack,"  Will  answered,  half  re- 
luctant." 

"  Ah,  do  let  me  see  it!  "  And  she  pressed  one  hand  to 
her  breast  with  native  southern  vehemence. 

"  It's  only  in  pencil,  roughly  scratched  on  bits  of  paper 
over  rocks  or  things  anyhow,"  Will  replied,  apologetically. 
"  I  don't  suppose  you'll  be  able  to  read  one  word  of  it.  But. 
if  you  like,  you  can  try,"  and  he  pulled  it  forth  and  opened 
it. 

For  twenty  minutes  or  more  of  terrestrial  time  Linnet 
sat  entranced  in  the  seventh  heavens.  She  tried  over 
parts  of  the  songs,  half  to  herself  half  to  Will,  with  many 
an  "  Oh  "  and  an  "  Ach,  Gott,"  and  was  charmed  and  de- 
lighted with  them.  They  were  written  straight  at  her — 
not  a  doubt  in  the  world  about  that;  and  they  suited  her 
voice  and  manner  admirably.  It's  so  innocent  for  a  singer 
to  sit  on  the  grassy  mountain  sides  like  this,  with  a  poet 
and  composer  close  at  hand  to  consult  and  talk  over  the 
work  they  mean  to  produce  together.    This  was  art,  pure 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 


263 


art ;  the  sternest  moralist  could  surely  find  nothing  to  ob- 
ject to  in  it.  Linnet  didn't  even  feel  bound  to  give  an- 
other hard  squeeze  to  the  poor  much-battered,  and  hardly- 
used  Madonna.  She  only  sat  and  sang — with  Will  smiling 
by  her  side — there  in  the  delicate  mountain  air,  among  the 
whispering  pines,  gazing  across  at  the  stainless  peaks,  and 
thrilling  through  to  the  finger  tips. 

"  O  Herr  Will,"  she  cried  at  last.  "  how  lovelv  it  is  out 
here — how  high,  how  soft,  how  pure — how  much  lovelier 
than  in  London !  I've  never  enjoyed  anything  in  my  life 
so  much,  since."  .  .  .  her  voice  sank  low — "  since  those 
days  on  the  Kiichelberg." 

Will  leant  over  towards  her  for  a  moment.  His  heart 
beat  hard.  He  laid  one  palm  on  the  ground  and  rested  on 
it  as  he  looked  at  her.  He  was  trembling  all  over.  Surely, 
surely  he  must  give  way!  For  a  moment  he  paused  and 
debated ;  then  he  rose  to  his  feet  suddenly.  "  I  think.  Lin- 
net," he  said,  in  a  very  serious  voice,  "  for  your  sake — I 
think — we  ought  to  go  on  and  find  your  husband." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


AN      OLD     ACQUAINTANCE 


■'II 


m 


When  Will,  with  fear  and  trembling,  explained  his  plan 
half-an-hour  later  at  the  chalet  to  Andreas  Ilaiisberser. 
that  wise  man  of  business,  instead  of  floutinj^  the  idea, 
entered  inio  his  suggestion  with  the  utmost  alacrity.  He 
knew  Linnet  was  still  very  fond  of  Will  Dcvcrill — and. 
being  a  practical  man,  he  was  perfectly  ready  to  make 
capital  out  of  her  fondness.  It  was  good  for  trade ;  and 
whatever  was  good  for  trade  appealed  at  once  to  Andreas 
on  the  tenderest  point  of  his  nature.  He  had  perfect  con- 
fidence in  Linnet's  honor — as  well,  indeed,  he  micrht  have ; 
but  if  she  chose  to  cherish  an  innocent  sentimental  attaJ'- 
ment  of  the  German  sort — in  point  of  fact,  a  sclnvannci  cl 
— towards  a  young  man  she  had  known  and  liked  before 
her  marriage,  that  was  no  business  of  his ;  or,  rather,  it 
was  just  as  much  his  business  as  it  might  help  him  to  make 
a  little  more  mone}  out  of  her.  Andreas  Hausberger  was 
a  proud  and  self-respecting  person,  but  his  pride  and  his 
self-respect  were  neither  of  them  touched  by  a  purely 
romantic  feeling  on  his  yoimg  wife's  part  towards  a  rh'uv;^ 
poet-composer  who  waj,  anxious  to  write  and  score  an 
opera  to  suit  her.  Indeed,  he  rather  congratulated  himself 
than  otherwise  on  the  thought  that  very  few  husbands  of 
theatrical  favorites  had  such  very  small  cause  for  jealousy 
as  he  had. 

So  he  listened  to  Will's  humming  and  hawing  apology 
with  a  quiet  face  of  subdued  amusement.  What  a  bother 
about  nothing!  If  Will  wrote  a  piece  for  Linnet,  why,  of 
course,  he'd  write  it  excellently,  and  write  it  with  most 
intimate  knowledge  of  her  voice,  as  well  as  with  close  sym- 
pathy for  all  its  shades  of  feeling".  Will  knew  her  exact 
compass,  her  range,  her  capabilities ;  he  knew  also  her 
weak  points,  her  limitations,  her  dramatic  failings.  And 
Linnet,  for  her  part,  was  sure  to  sing  well  whatever  Will 

264 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 


265 


wrote  for  her — both  because  it  was  Will's,  and  because  it 
was  suited  to  her  voice  and  character.  The  idea  was  an 
excellent  one ;  how  absurd  to  make  a  fuss  about  it ! 

"  And  he  has  some  of  it  scored  already,  he  says,"  Linnet 
put  in,  half-trembling. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  Andreas  exclaimed,  in  his  authoritative 
way ;  and  he  skimmed  it  over  carefully.  *'  H'm,  h'm  .  .  . 
that's  not  bad,"  he  muttered  from  time  to  time  as  he  went 
along  ..."  suits  her  style  very  well  .  .  .  not  at 
all  a  weak  close ;  hne  opportunity  for  that  clear  upper  G 
of  hers ;  excellently  considered  piece — have  you  tried  it 
over,  Linnet?  I  should  think  it  ought  to  do  very  nicely 
indeed  for  you." 

"  1  just  Stiiig  it  a  bit  at  sight,"  Linnet  answered,  "  on 
the  hillside.  When  I  met  i  I  err  Will  first,  we  sat  down 
and  talked,  because  llerr  Will  was  tired ;  and  he  showed 
me  his  score,  and  I  tried  part  of  it  over  a  bit.  liut  it 
was  not  that  which  you  vvould  quiie  call  fairly  trying  it. 
for  1  had  not  seen  it  bc-fore,  and  had  no  time  to  study  it. 
Still,  I  thought  it  very  good — oh.  exquisite,  perfect! — and 
I  s^'.ould  like  so  much  the  chance  to  sing  in  it." 

■*  Try  it  now !  "  Andreas  said,  in  his  dictatorial  tone 

And  Linnet,  without  any  afl'ccted  hesitation,  or  pro- 
fessional airs,  opened  her  rich  mouth  naturally,  and  trilled 
forth  upon  Will's  delighted  ear  in  a  raptured  flood  her 
native  first  reading  of  his  own  graceful  music. 

"  That'll  do !  "  Andreas  said,  with  decision,  as  soon  as 
she'd  finished.  "  That'll  do.  Linnet,  We'll  arrange  for 
it." 

And  Will,  leaning  across  to  her  over  the  plain  deal  table, 
as  she  stood  blushing  in  front  of  him,  exclaimed  w'th  de- 
light. "  Why,  Linnet — Frau  Hausberger,  I  mean — that's 
charming,  charming!  I  couldn't  have  bel'eved  how  pretty 
my  own  song  was,  till  I  heard  you  sing  it !  " 

So  that  very  day  the  whole  matter  was  settled,  as  far, 
at  least,  as  those  three  could  settle  it.  It  was  decided  and 
contracted  that  Will  should  definitely  write  an  opera  for 
Linnet ;  that  he  should  offer  it  first  to  Mr.  Wells,  the  man- 
ager of  the  Harmony;  and  that  if  Wells  refused  it,  it 
should  go  next  to  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh's,  on  condition 
that  Linnet  was  engaged  for  the  title-role.  Before  eve- 
ning, Will  had  shouldered  his  knapsack  once  more  (though 


266 


LINNET 


Andreas  would  fain  have  constrained  him  to  stay  the 
night  at  their  inn),  and,  with  a  timorous  farewell  to  Lin- 
net at  the  chalet  door,  had  gone  on  his  way  rejoicing,  to 
descend  towards  Oberwesel. 

That  interview  gave  him  courage.  During  the  course 
of  the  autumn  he  completed  his  piece,  for  he  was  a  man  of 
inspirations,  and  he  worked  very  rapidly  when  the  fit  was 
upon  him.  The  greater  part  of  his  opera  he  wrote  and 
composed  in  the  open  air,  beneath  the  singing  larks,  on 
those  green  Swiss  hillsides.  And  the  larks  themselves  did 
not  sing  more  spontaneous,  with  heart  elate,  for  pure  joy 
of  singing.  That  one  short  tcte-a-tcte  with  Linnet  at  her 
chalet  had  filled  his  teeming  brain  with  new  chords  and 
great  fancies.  Words  and  notes  seemed  to  come  of  them- 
selves, and  to  suggest  one  another;  moods  seemed  to 
mirror  themselves  in  becoming  music.  Besides,  Will 
thought  with  no  little  pleasure,  this  new  venture  would 
bring  him,  for  a  time  at  least,  into  closer  personal  connec- 
tion with  Linnet.  While  rehearsals  and  other  preliminary 
arrangements  went  on,  he  must  be  thrown  a  great  deal  per- 
force into  Linnet's  company.  And  how  delightful  to  think 
they  would  be  working  together  for  a  common  end ;  that 
success,  if  achieved,  would  be  due  in  part  and  in  equal  de- 
grees to  each  of  them. 

Will  didn't  return  to  London  till  the  end  of  October. 
He  had  spent  the  time  meanwhile  partly  in  the  Bernese 
Oberland,  and  partly,  later,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Alps, 
among  the  valleys  and  waterfalls  of  the  Canton  Ticino. 
But  when  he  arrived  at  Charing  Cross,  it  was  not  empty- 
handed  ;  he  carried  in  his  portmanteau  the  almost  com- 
plete manuscript  of  Cophetiia's  Adventure,  that  exquisite 
romance  of  no  particular  time  and  place,  with  its  fanciful 
theme  and  its  curious  episodes,  which  proved  at  last  that 
poetry  is  not  stone-dead  on  our  English  stage,  and  that 
exquisite  vers^  wedded  to  exquisite  harmonies  has  still  its 
fair  chance  of  a  hearing  in  England.  He  had  only  to 
polish  it  at  his  rooms  in  Craven  Street,  before  submitting 
it  to  the  opinion  of  the  manager  of  the  Harmony. 

Linnet  came  later.  She  had  a  two  months'  engagement 
first  to  fulfil  in  Paris,  where  Will  read,  with  a  little  pan^ 
of  regret,  in  the  Figaro  how  she  had  turned  the  heads 
and  captured  the  hearts  (if  any)  of  ten  thousand  boulc- 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 


267 


ay  the 
;o  Lin- 
ing, to 

course 
man  of 
fit  was 
)te  and 
rks,  on 
ves  did 
Lire  joy 
;  at  her 
rds  and 
f  them- 
med  to 
s,    Will 
;  would 
connec- 
iminary 
leal  per- 
to  think 
id ;  that 
\U3.\  de- 

!)ctober. 
Bernese 
le  Alps, 

Ticino. 

empty- 
st  com- 
xquisite 
fanciful 
ast  that 

nd  that 
,  still  its 

only  to 
)mitting 

igement 
tie  pans 
e  heads 
1  boulc- 


vardicrs.  Her  very  innocence  and  simplicity  at  once  de- 
lighted and  surprised  the  profoundly  sophisticated  Parisian 
mind.  All  the  world  of  the  foyer  unanimously  voted  her 
tout  cc  qu'il-y-a  de  plus  cnfantin.  "  She  has  afforded  us," 
said  a  famous  lady-killer  of  the  Avenue  Victor  Hugo, 
"  the  rare  pleasure  of  a  persistent  and  unreasoning  refusal." 
So  all  Paris  was  charmed,  as  all  Paris  always  is  at  any  new 
sensation.  An  opera-singer  insensible  to  the  persuasive- 
ness of  diamonds  and  the  eloquence  of  bank-notes — all 
Paris  shrugged  its  shoulders  in  incredulous  astonishment. 
" Incroyable!"  it  muttered:  "  mais  eniin,  die  est  jeune, 
cctte  petite — ca  vicndra !  " 

So  it  was  March  before  Linnet  was  in  London  once 
more.  Andreas,  ever  business-like,  had  preceded  her  by  a 
week  or  two,  to  conclude  the  needful  arrangements  with 
the  people  at  the  Harmony.  By  the  time  the  prima  donna 
herself  arrived,  everything  was  already  well  in  train  for 
the  rehearsals.  Linnet  had  studied  her  part,  indeed,  in 
Paris,  beforehand,  till  she  knew  every  line,  every  word, 
every  note  of  it.  She  had  never  learnt  anything  so  easily 
in  her  life  before,  though  she  would  hardly  admit,  even  to 
herself,  the  true  reason — because  Will  had  written  it. 
They  met  at  the  Harmony  the  very  next  afternoon,  to  dis- 
cuss the  details.  Andreas  was  there,  of  course — he  never 
left  his  wife's  side  when  business  was  in  question ;  he 
must  protect  her  interests :  erect,  inflexible,  tall,  powerful, 
big-built,  with  hij  resolute  face  and  his  determined  mien, 
he  was  a  man  whom  no  theatrical  manager  on  earth  could 
afford  to  bully.  He  bargained  hard  with  the  Harmony 
for  his  wife's  services  in  this  new  engagement ;  for,  indeed, 
her  late  Parisian  vogue  had  put  up  her  price  another  twenty 
per  cent,  or  so ;  and  now  he  stood  there,  triumphant,  self- 
conscious,  jubilant,  aware  that  he  had  done  a  good  stroke 
of  business  for  himself,  and  ready  to  do  battle  again  on  his 
wife's  behalf  with  all  and  sundry.  So  satisfied  was  he, 
indeed,  with  their  rising  fortunes,  that  he  had  presented 
Linnet  spontaneously  with  a  five-pound  note,  all  pocket- 
money  of  her  own  to  do  as  she  liked  with,  on  their  way  to 
the  theater. 

Linnet  stood  a  little  behind.  Will  grasped  he'  hand 
eagerly.  She  took  his  in  return  without  the  faintest  pres- 
sure— for  Our  Dear  Lady  knew  well  how  wisely  and  cir- 


268 


7  INNET 


cumspectly  she  meant  to  beha  ^e  now  towards  him.  The 
circumstances  were  dangerous:  so  much  tin-  more,  i^e- 
loved  Frau,  would  siie  strive  to  comport  lierself  as  becomt^ 
a  good  Catliolic  wife  in  the  hour  of  tcmptati<.ii. 

"You  hke  your  part.  Signora?"  Will  asked  of  her, 
half-playfully,  adopting  her  theatrical  Italian  style  and 
title. 

Linnet  raised  her  big  eyes.  "  I  have  never  sung  in  any- 
think  I  liked  half  so  well,"  she  answered,  simply. 

The  company  assembled  by  degrees,  and  the  usual  pre- 
liminary discussion  ensued  forthwith  as  to  parts,  and  cues, 
and  costumes,  and  properties.  Will's  own  ideas,  conceived 
among  the  virgin  snows  and  pure  air  of  the  high  Alps,  were 
a  trifle  too  ethereal  and  a  trifle  too  virginal  for  that  practi- 
cal manager.  He  modified  them  considerably.  Various 
points  had  to  be  talked  over  with  various  persons.  In  the 
midst  of  them  all,  Will  was  surprised  to  feel  of  a  sudden 
a  sturdy  gloved  hand  laid  abruptly  on  his  shoulder,  and  a 
powerful  though  musical  feminine  voice  exclaiming  volu- 
bly at  his  ear  in  very  high  German,  "  Ach  mcin  Gott!  it's 
Herr  Will.  So  we  meet  again  in  London.  Herr  Andreas 
told  me  you  had  written  this  piece  for  Linnet ;  but  one 
hardly  knows  you  again,  you've  grown  so  much  older — 
and  better  dressed — and  richer!  And  Dear  Frau!  in  the 
Tyrol,  you  wore  no  beard  and  whiskers !  " 

Will  turner'  "^^  surprise.  It  was  a  minute,  even  so,  be- 
fore he  qui  /ecognized  the  stalwart  speaker.  It  was 
Phil'ppina,  still  good-humored  and  buxom  and  garrulous 
as  of  old ;  but,  oh,  great  heavens,  how  much  changed  from 
the  brown-faced  scnncrin  with  the  rough  woollen  petticoat 
who  had  oflfered  them  milk,  all  frothy  from  the  cow.  in  the 
stone-ware  mug  on  the  hill-side  of  St.  Valentin!  If  Lin- 
net was  altered,  Philippina  was  transmogrified.  Her  jolly 
round  face  was  surmounted  incongruously  by  the  latest 
and  airiest  thing  out  in  Parisian  bonnets;  her  dress  was  the 
very  glass  and  mirror  of  fashion  ;  her  delicate  gloves  looked 
as  dainty  as  seven-and-a-halfs  are  ever  likely  to  look  upon 
feminine  fingers.  Civilization,  indeed,  had  done  its  worst 
for  Philippina:  it  had  transformed  her  outright  from  a 
simple  and  natural  if  somewhat  coarse-fibred  cow-girl 
into  the  jolly,  bouncing,  distinctly  vulgar  type  of  third-rate 
actress.    With  all  good-humc  ivd  co?  i  scness  of  her  original 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 


269 


1.  The 
)re,  Be- 
Ijecomcs 

of  her, 
yle   and 

;  in  any- 

lUal  pre- 
,nd  cues, 
Dnceived 
Ips,  were 
it  practi- 
Various 
In  the 
1  sudden 
IT,  and  a 
ng  voUi- 
;o^^'  it's 
Andreas 
but  one 
older — 
!  in  the 

n  so,  be- 
lt  was 
garrulous 
^ed  from 
petticoat 
w.  in  tlic 
If  Lin- 
ger jolly 
le  latest 
was  the 
;s  looked 
)ok  upon 
ts  worst 
from  a 
cow-pirl 
hird-ratc 
•  original 


nature,  she  now  possessed  in  addition  all  the  airs  and 
graces,  all  the  coquettish  affectations,  all  the  noisy  self-- 
assertion  of  the  theatrical  utility. 

"  \\  hy,  1  didn't  know  you  were  in  England,"  Will  ex- 
claimed, taken  aback  at  her  unexpected  salute,  and  survey- 
ing from  head  to  foot  with  no  very  pleased  eye  the  fly- 
away peculiarities  of  her  over-trimmed  costume.  "  Then 
you've  taken  to  the  stage !  "  He  turned  hastily  to  Linnet, 
and  added  in  English,  which  Philippina  did  not  under- 
stand when  he  last  met  her,  "  She  isn't  surely  going  to 
play  in  this  piece  of  mine,  is  she?  " 

"So!"  Philippina  answered,  in  a  very  Teutonic  voice, 
indeed,  but  in  our  native  vernacular.  *'  Ach,  ves ;  I  am 
going  to  play  in  it ;  Herr  Andreas  has  arranched  all  zat 
wis  ze  manager.  You  are  surbrized  to  zee  zat  I  shall  blay 
in  your  biece.  But  I  haf  blay  pevore  in  many  bieces  in 
Paris." 

Will  glanced  at  Linnet,  a  mute  glance  of  inquiry.  He 
didn't  know  why,  but  Linnet's  eyes  fell,  and  a  blush  spread 
quid"  over  that  clear  brown  cheek  of  hers.  It  wasn't  the 
familiar  blush  he  was  accustomed  to  see  there ;  he  noted 
at  once  some  tinge  of  shame  and  personal  humiliation  in 
the  look  that  accompanied  it.  But  she  answered  quickly, 
"  Oh,  yes ;  Philippina's  to  play.  My  husband  and  Mr. 
Wells  have  settled  all  about  it." 

"  What  part?  "  Will  inquired,  with  a  slight  sense  of  sink- 
ing; for  he  wasn't  over-well  pleased  to  hear  those  dainty 
lines  of  his  were  to  be  murdered  by  Philippina's  coarse 
gutteral  utterance. 

"  Ze  Brincess  Berylla,"  Philippina  replied,  with  glib 
prompt'tude  and  great  self-satisfaction.  "  It's  a  very 
schmall  part ;  bod  I  shall  do  my  best  in  it." 

Will  gave  a  slight  sigh  of  relief.  The  Princess  Bcrvlla 
would  do  at  a  pinch.  If  she  ninsf  sing  at  all.  it  was  well 
at  least  she  would  sing  in  so  minor  a  character.  Though, 
to  be  sure,  he  had  his  misgiv'ngs  how  his  water-fairies' 
song  would  sound  on  the  stage  when  delivered  with  her 
clumsy  Teutonic  pronunciation : 

"  Tlipv  'nvpri   'n  ftwd) 
In    a   pcar'v   ■-Ik^II 
And  t^n  deck  their  cell 

With   amher ;  . 


w 


\  !. 


170  LINNET 

Or  amif'  the  caves 
That  tht   riplet  laves 
And  the       ryl  paves 
To  clamber. 

By  the  limpet's  home 
And  the  vaulted  dome 
Where  the  star-fish  roam 
They'd  linger; 

In  the  mackerel's  jaw, 
Or  the  lobster's  claw, 
They'd  push  and  withdraw 
A  finger." 

He  trembled  to  think  what  sort  of  strange  hash  those  thick 
Hps  of  hers  would  make  of  his  lilting  vcsification. 

However,  for  the  moment,  and  for  Linnet's  sake,  he  said 
nothing  against  it.  A  little  later  in  the  afternoon,  he  had 
five  minutes  with  the  prima  donna  alone  in  one  of  the  pas- 
sages. "  Look  here,  Linnet,"  he  said  hurriedly  with  a 
beseeching  glance,  "  must  we  have  Philippina  ?  " 

"  There's  no  must  at  all  in  the  matter,  except  the  musts 
yoti  make,"  Linnet  answered,  trembling.  "If  you  say 
she  must  go,Mr.  Wells  will  cut  her  out,  I  suppose,  to  please 
you.     Only "  and  she  hesitated. 

"  Only  what?  "  Will  cried,  inquiringly. 

"  Only  .  .  .  I'm  afraid  Andreas  wouldn't  like  it." 

Her  face  flushed  again.  Will  looked  down  at  her  and 
paused.  A  great  many  thoughts  ran  through  his  head 
in  a  second.  Linnet  scanned  the  floor,  embarrassed.  After 
awhile,  Will  spoke  again  in  a  very  low  tone.  "  I'd  let 
anybody  sing.  Linnet,"  he  said,  "  with  a  voice  like  a  frog's, 
rather  than  allow — well,  any  trouble  to  crop  up  between 
myself  and  your  husband." 

"  Thank  you,"  Linnet  answered  simply.  But  she  lifted 
her  eyes  and  gave  him  one  grateful  look  that  was  more 
than  full  recompense. 

"  How  did  Philippina  learn  English  ? "  Will  asked 
once  more,  hardly  daring  to  press  the  subject. 

"  Oh,  Andreas  has  always  taken — well — a  very  great 
interest  in  her,  you  know,"  Linnet  answered,  with  a  faintly 
evasive  air.  **  She  went  with  us  to  Italy.  He  kept  her  on 
when  he  paid  oflf  the  rest  of  his  troupe  at  Meran ;  and  he 
got  her  trained  under  agreement,  and  put  her  into  a  minor 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 


271 


part  when  I  sang  at  San  Carlo.  When  we  came  to  Eng- 
land first,  she  went  for  awhile  to  Paris;  but  he's  always 
been  getting  her  English  lessons  everywhere.  He  has  a 
claim  on  her,  he  says,  for  money  advanced  to  train  her 
for  the  stage. 

.  .  .  She's  a  very  good-natured  girl,  and  she's  always  been 
kind  to  me." 

"  I  see,"  Will  answered,  with  a  suddenly  sobered  air. 
"  Very  well,  then,  Linnet,"  and  he  drew  a  deep  sigh — 
though  not  for  himself ;  "  she  shall  sing  the  part  of  Prin- 
cess Berylla." 

"  Thank  you,"  Linnet  said  simply,  with  a  sigh,  once 
more. 

But  till  then,  he  had  never  thought  Linnet  had  that  to 
put  up  with. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


GOLDEN    HOPES 


IWI 


Mr.  Franz  Lindner,  alias  Signer  Francesco  of  the  Lon- 
don Pavilion,  laid  down  his  morning  paper  at  his  lodgings 
ill  Soho,  with  unmistakable  outward  and  visible  signs  of 
a  very  bad  humor.  Montepulciano  and  Lacrima-Christi, 
as  Florian  put  it,  had  evidently  disagreed  with  him.  But 
that  was  not  all.  The  subject  which  roused  his  undis- 
guised discontent  was  the  marked  success  of  the  woman  he 
once  loved — the  woman  he  loved  now  even  more  than  ever. 

For  this  was  what  Franz  had  read,  amid  much  else  of  the 
same  cheap  laudatory  strain,  in  the  theatrical  column  of 
the  Daily  Telephone. 

"'  The  first  performance  of  Mr.  W.  Dcverill's  new  Eng- 
lish opera,  Cophctuas  ^idrcnture,  at  the  Harmony  last 
night  marks  an  epoch  in  the  renascence  of  the  poetical 
drama  in  England.  Never  has  tiie  little  house  on  the  Em- 
bankment been  so  crowded  before ;  never  has  an  audience 
received  a  new  play  with  more  unanimous  marks  of  pro- 
found enthusiasm.  P)Oth  as  a  work  of  literature  and  as  .'i 
musical  composition,  this  charming  piece  recalls  to  niinil 
the  best  days  of  the  great  Italian  outburst  of  song  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century."  Franz  snorted  internally  as 
he  ran  his  eye  in  haste  over  the  learned  digression  on  the 
various  characteristics  of  the  various  operas  which  Coplir 
tna's  Adventure  suggested  to  the  accomplished  critic  who 
works  tlie  drama  for  that  leading  ncwspaner.  Then,  skip- 
ping the  gag,  he  read  on  once  more  with  deeper  interest, 
"  It  would  be  hard  to  decide  whether  the  chief  honors  of 
the  night  belonged  more  unmistakably  to  Mr.  Deverill  him- 
self or  to  his  charming  exponent,  Signora  Casalmontc. 
The  words  of  the  songs,  indeed,  possessed  to  a  rare  de- 
gree high  literary  merit ;  the  music,  as  might  be  expected 
fiom  so  accomplished  a  composer,  was  light  and  airy,  yet 
with  the  genuine  ring  of  artistic  inspiration ;  but  the  ever- 

272 


GOLDEN  HOPES 


273 


delightful  soprano  rendered  her  part  so  admirably  that 
'twas  difficult  to  disentangle  Mr.  Deverill's  tunes  from  the 
delicious  individualization  conferred  upon  them  by  Signora 
Casalnionte's  voice  and  acting.  The  prima  donna's  first 
appearance  on  the  statue  as  the  Beggar  Maid,  lightly  clad 
in  a  graceful  though  ostentatiously  simple  costume,  was  the 
signal  for  a  burst  of  irrepressible  applause  from  stalls, 
boxes  and  gallery.  In  the  second  act,  as  Cophetua's 
Queen,  the  popular  dizu  looked,  if  possible,  even  more 
enchantingly  beautiful;  while  the  ex([uisite  naivete  with 
which  she  sang  the  dainty  aria,  *  Now  all  ye  maidens, 
matrons,  wives,  and  widows,'  brought  down  the  house  in 
one  prolonged  outburst  of  unmixed  appreciation.  Our 
operatic  stage  has  seldom  boasted  a  lady  so  perfectly 
natural,  in  manner,  gesture,  and  action,  or  one  who  allowed 
her  great  native  gifts  to  degenerate  so  little  into  affecta- 
tions or  prettinesses." 

Franz  flung  down  the  paper  and  sighed.  He  admitted 
it ;  he  regretted  it.  What  a  fool  he  had  been  not  to  marry 
that  girl,  offhand,  when  he  once  had  the  chance,  instead  of 
dawdling  and  hanging  about  till  Hausberger  carried  the 
prize  off  under  his  nose  to  St.  Valentin.  It  was  disgust- 
ing, it  was  silly  of  him!  And  now  it  began  to  strike  him 
very  forcibly  indeed  that  his  chance,  once  gone,  was  gone 
for  ever.  A  full  year  and  more  had  passed  since  Linnet 
and  her  husband  first  came  to  London.  During  that  year 
it  had  dawned  slowly  upon  Franz's  mind  that  Linnet  had 
risen  into  a  higher  sphere,  and  could  never  by  any  possi- 
bility be  his  in  future.  He  was  dimly  conscious  by  this 
time  that  he  hiiu'^i'lf  w  mm  a  nnisic  hall  gentleman  by  nature 
and  position,  while  Liniiel  was  born  to  be  a  s;pecial  star 
of  the  higher  opera.  Never  could  he  recover  the  ground 
thus  lost ;  the  woman  he  loved  once,  and  now  loved  again 
distractedly,  had  climbed  to  a  higher  plane,  and  was  lost 
to  his  horizon. 

What  annoyed  Franz  more  than  anything,  however,  was 
his  feeling  of  chagrin  that  he  had  let  himself  be  cajoled, 
on  the  night  of  Linnet's  first  appearance  in  London,  into 
abandoning  his  designs  against  her  hu.sband's  person.  He 
knew  now  he  had  done  wrong;  he  oni:^ht  to  have  stabbed 
Andreas  Hausberger,  then  and  there,  as  he  intended.  In 
a  moment  of  culpable  weakness,  he  had  allowed  himself 


274 


LINNET 


to  be  beguiled  from  his  fixed  purpose  by  tlie  blandishments 
of  Linnet  and  the  rich  American  widow.  That  would  in- 
deed have  been  the  dramatic  time  to  strike ;  he  had  let  the 
psychological  moment  go  by  unheeded,  and  it  would  never 
return,  or,  at  least,  it  would  never  return  in  so  effectual 
a  fashion.  To  have  struck  him  then  and  there,  on  their 
very  first  meeting  after  Linnet's  marriage,  and  on  tlie 
night  when  Linnet  made  her  earliest  bow  before  an  English 
audience — that  would  have  been  splendid,  that  would  have 
been  beautiful,  that  would  have  been  romantic :  all  London 
would  have  rung  with  it.  But  now,  during  those  past 
months,  he  had  met  Andreas  twice  or  thrice,  on  neutral 
ground,  as  it  were,  and  the  relations  between  them,  thouiih 
distant  and  distinctly  strained,  had  been  nominally  friendly. 
The  Robbler  felt  he  had  committed  a  fatal  error  in  ac- 
cepting Mr.  Will's  invitation  to  supper  on  that  critical 
evening.  It  had  compelled  him  to  treat  Andreas  as  an  ac- 
quaintance once  more;  to  turn  round  upon  him  now,  and 
stab  him  in  pure  pique,  would  be  feeble  and  self-stultifyinj^^. 
Franz  wished  he  had  had  strength  of  mind  to  resist  the  wo- 
men's wiles  that  first  night  at  the  Harmony,  and  to  draw 
his  rival's  blood  before  their  very  eyes,  as  his  own  belli r 
judgment  had  told  him  he  ought  to  do. 

He  had  seen  Linnet,  too,  and  there  came  the  unkindest 
cut  of  all ;  for  he  recognized  at  once  that  the  girl  he  had 
described  to  Will  Deverill  as  beneath  his  exalted  notice 
since  he  rose  to  the  front  ranks  of  the  profession  at  the 
London  Pavilion,  was  now  so  much  above  him  that  she 
scarcely  thought  of  him  at  all,  and  evidently  regarded  him 
only  in  the  light  of  the  man  who  had  threatened  her  hus- 
band's life  when  they  came  to  England. 

Yes ;  Linnet  thought  nothing  of  him  now ;  how  could 
you  expect  it  to  be  otherwise?  She  had  money  and  rank 
and  position  at  her  feet ;  was  it  likely,  being  a  woman,  she 
would  care  greatly,  when  things  were  thus,  for  a  music- 
hall  singer  who  earned  as  much  in  six  months  as  she  her- 
self could  earn  in  one  easy  fortnight?  And  yet  ...  . 
Franz  rose,  and  gazed  abstractedly  at  his  own  face  in  the 
glass  over  the  mantelpiece.  No  fault  to  find  there !  Many 
women  did  worse.  He  was  excellently  pleased  with  his 
black  moustache,  his  flashing  dark  eyes,  his  well-turned 
figure ;  he  even  thought  not  ill  of  his  jjlazing  blue  necktie. 


GOLDEN  HOPES 


^75 


And  Andreas  was  fifty  if  he  was  a  day,  Franz  felt  sure; 
old  Andreas  with  his  solid  cut,  his  square-set  shoulders, 
his  steely-^'rey  eyes,  his  heavy,  unimpassioned,  inexpres- 
sive countenance!  Aclt,  if  onl  he  himself  had  the  money 
to  cut  a  dash — the  mere  wretched  rhino — the  miserable 
oof — for  Franz  had  lived  long  enough  in  England  now  to 
have  picked  up  a  choice  collection  of  best  British  slang — 
lie  might  stand  a  chance  still  against  that  creature  An- 
dreas ! 

It  was  one  o'clock  by  iliis  time.  tli(iii,^Ii  Franz  had  only 
just  risen  from  his  nu>"ii  i;^-  coffee.  What  would  you 
have?  A  professional  m..n  must  needs  sing  till  late  at 
night,  and  take  his  social  pleasures  at  his  cafe  afterwards. 
So  Franz  was  seldom  in  bed  till  two  or  three  in  the  morn- 
ing, recouping  himself  next  day  by  sleeping  on  till  mid-day. 
Twas  the  hour  of  the  promenade.  He  vent  into  his  bed- 
room, doffed  his  flannel  smoking-coat.  and  arrayed  him- 
self in  the  cheaply-fashionable  broadcloth  suit  in  which 
it  was  his  wont  to  give  the  daily  treat  of  seeing  him  to  the 
girls  in  Bond  Street.  Then  he  lighted  a  bad  cigar,  and 
strolled  out  towards  Piccadilly.  At  the  Circus,  he  met 
a  friend,  an  English  betting  man,  who  was  a  constant 
patron  of  the  London  Pavilion. 

"  Hello,  Fred!  "  he  cried,  with  a  start,  "  how  spruce  you 
look  to-day !  Ze  favorite  must  have  lost.  You  have  ze 
appearance  of  ze  man  who  is  flush  of  money.  And  yet, 
ze  winter,  is  it  not  your  off  season  ?  " 

The  bookmaker  smiled  a  most  self-contented  smile.  He 
certainly  had  the  air  of  being  in  the  very  best  of  spirits. 
He  was  one  of  those  over-fed,  full-faced,  knowing-eyed 
creatures  who  lurk  round  racecourses  with  a  flower  in  their 
buttonholes,  smoke  the  finest  cigars,  drink  Heidsieck's  Dry 
Monopole,  and  drop  their  H's  over  the  grand  stand  with 
surprising  unanimity.  But  his  aspect  just  then  was  even 
more  prosperous  than  usual.  He  seized  Signor  Frances- 
co's arm  with  good-humored  effusiveness.  "  Flush !  "  he 
cried,  with  a  bounce.  "  Well,  my  boy,  I  should  rather 
think  so.  Wy,  I  ain't  on  the  turf  any  longer,  that's  jest 
w'ere  it  is.  I've  retired  from  business.  Jest  you  look  'ere, 
Frenchy;  that's  gold,  that  is;  I've  been  over  in  your 
county  for  six  weeks,  I  'ave ;  and  danged  if  I  ain't  come 
back  with  my  pockets  'arf  bust  with  furrineerin'  money  I  ** 


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276 


LINNET 


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"  To  my  country !  To  Tyrol  ?  "  Franz  put  in,  greatly 
astonished.  **  Zer  ain't  moch  money  going  zere,  I  fancy. 
We're  as  poor  as  ze  church  mice.  But  perhaps,"  he  added, 
with  an  after  thought,  "  you  mean  Vienna." 

"  Vienna  be  'an^ed !  "  the  bookmaker  responded,  with 
a  hearty  slap  on  the  Frenchy's  back.  To  him,  as  to  all  his 
kind,  the  Continent  was  the  Continent,  one  and  indivisible. 
He  made  and  encouraged  no  petty  distinctions  between 
F'rance  and  Austria.  **  Vienna  be  'anged.  It's  Monty 
Carlo  I've  been  to.  By  George,  sir,  that's  the  place  to 
rake  the  looees  in !  You  puts  down  your  cash  on  red  or 
black  or  numbers,  or  ong  chcval  they  calls  it ;  wh'rr,  wh'rr, 
goes  the  roolett — pop.  out  jumps  the  pea — 'Rooge  gang!' 
sez  the  croopyer; — and  you  hauls  in  your  money!  I  tell 
you,  Frenchy,  that's  the  place  to  make  your  pile  in !  Wy. 
I  haven't  been  there  more'n  jest  six  weeks — an'  1  come 
back  last  night  with  a  cool  twenty  thou'  in  my  britches 
pocket !  " 

"Twenty  sousand  francs?  "  Franz  cried,  fairly  dazzled. 

His  companion's  eyes  gazed  unutterable  contempt, 
"  Twenty  thousand  francs.  Francs  be  blowed !  "  he 
answered  oriskly.  "  None  o'  your  furrineerin*  reckonin's 
for  me,  if  you  please,  young  man  I  I'm  a  true-born  Briton, 
and  I  count  in  pounds  sterlin'.  No,  no ;  twenty  thousand 
pounds  in  good  French  bank-notes — a  cool  twenty  thousand 
in  my  britches  pocket.  I've  carried  'em  home  myself. 
all  the  way  from  Moniy  Carlo,  for  fear  of  bein'  robbed — 
there's  a  lot  o'  shady  people  down  there  on  the  Literal — and 
I'm  going  down  now  to  my  banker's  in  the  Strand,  with 
the  twenty  thousand  pound,  to  oay  'em  in  and  invest 'em !  " 

"  And  you  earned  all  zat  lot  in  six  weeks  1  "  Franz  cried, 
his  mouth  watering. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  exactly  earn  it,  old  chap,"  the  book- 
maker replied  with  a  knowing  wink;  "  though  I've  got  a 
System.  I  just  let  it  flow  in.  without  doing  anything  pcr- 
tickler  myself  to  'elp  it,  excep'  it  might  be  to  rake  in  the 
rhino.  But  I  mean  to  retire  now,  and  do  the  toff  in  future, 
just  runnin'  down  there  again  every  two  or  three  years, 
when  I  feel  the  shoe  pinch,  to  replenish  the  exchequer." 

"  How  much  did  you  start  wis  ? "  Franz  inquired 
eagerly ;  for  a  Plan  was  rising  up  in  indefinite  outline  be- 
fore his  mind's  eye  as  they  stood  there. 


W,.''mi 


GOLDEN  HOPES 


-^n 


"  Oh,  I  took  across  five  'underd,"  the  bookmaker  rcpHed, 
with  easy  confidence,  as  though  five  hundred  pounds  were 
to  him  the  merest  flea-bite.  "  I  woukln't  advise  anybody 
to  try  and  work  his  luck  on  less  than  that.  You  want  the 
capital,  that's  where  it  is ;  the  fly  'uns  know  that ;  outsiders 
go  smash  through  not  startin'  with  the  capital." 

He  took  Franz's  arm  in  his  own.  Luck  makes  men 
generous.  They  lunched  together  at  Simpson's,  at  the 
winner's  expense,  after  he  had  deposited  his  gains  at  the 
bank  in  the  Strand.  The  lobster  salad  was  good :  the  as- 
paragus was  fine ;  the  iced  champagne  made  glad  the  heart 
of  the  bookmaker.  Expanding  by  degrees,  he  waxed 
warm  in  praise  of  his  infallible  System.  It  was  fallacious, 
of  course — all  such  Systems  are ;  but  its  inventor,  at  any 
rate,  implicitly  believed  in  it.  Little  by  little,  with  the  aid 
of  a  pencil  and  paper,  and  a  diagram  of  a  roulette  table, 
he  explained  to  his  eager  listener  the  nature  of  his  plan 
for  securing  a  fortune  offhand  at  Monte  Carlo.  Franz 
drank  it  in  open-mouthed.  This  was  really  interesting! 
How  could  any  man  be  such  a  fool  as  to  sing  for  a  misera- 
ble pittance  six  nights  a  week  in  smoky,  grimy  London, 
when  a  turn  of  fortune's  wheel  could  bring  him  a  hundred 
pounds  every  time  the  table  spun  in  cloudless  Monte  Carlo  ? 
It  was  clear  as  mud  how  to  win  ;  the  bookmaker  was  right ; 
no  fellow  could  fail  to  pull  off  five  strokes  out  of  nine  with 
this  infallible  martingale !  Visions  of  untold  wealth  floated 
vague  before  his  eyes.  He  saw  his  way  to  be  rich  beyond 
the  dreams  of  avarice. 

But  it  wasn't  avar'ce  alon  that  inflamed  Franz  Lind- 
ner's desire ;  it  was  love,  it  was  revenge,  it  was  woundv.ci 
vanity.  At  once  the  idea  rose  up  clear  in  his  mind  that  if 
he  could  go  to  Monte  Carlo  and  win  a  fortune,  as  the 
bookmaker  had  done,  he  might  come  home  and  lay  it  all 
at  Linnet's  feet,  with  a  very  good  chance  of  final  accep- 
tance. His  experience  at  the  London  Pavih'on  had  led  him 
to  believe  that  women  in  general,  and  theatrical  stars  in  par- 
ticular, had  all  their  price,  and  might  all  be  bought,  if  you 
only  bid  high  enough.  He  didn't  doubt  that  Linnet  was 
like  the  rest  of  her  kind  in  th's  matter.  She  didn't  love 
Andreas ;  she  couldn't  love  Andreas.  If  a  good-looking 
man,  with  a  very  fine  figure  and  a  very  black  moustache, 
laid  the  untold  gold  of  Monte  Carlo  at  her  feet,  could  Lin- 


278 


LINNET 


%' 


••-1"',  ,;;!i| 

1,;,    :■:    '■.;i|l 


net  resist  ?  Would  she  care  to  resist  him  ?  Franz  opined 
she  would  not.  He  didn't  think  it  likely.  There  was 
only  one  thing  needed  to  break  the  slender  tie  that  bound 
her  to  Andreas.  That  one  thing  he  would  get — money, 
money,  money ! 

So,  from  that  day  forth,  Franz  Lindner's  life  was 
changed.  He  began  to  work  on  quite  a  new  basis.  Hith- 
erto, like  most  others  of  his  trade  and  class,  he  had  spent 
all  he  earned  as  fast  as  he  got  it.  ;^Jow,  he  began  to  save 
and  lay  by  for  love,  with  the  thrift  of  his  countrymen.  One 
great  object  in  life  swam  clear  before  his  eyes;  he  must 
manage  to  scrape  together  five  hundred  pounds,  and  take 
it  to  Monte  Carlo,  where  he  could  make  it  by  a  stroke  or 
two  of  that  wonder-working  roulette-table  into  twenty 
thousand.  And  with  twenty  thousand  pounds,  he  didn't 
for  a  moment  doubt  he'd  be  able  to  pay  his  suit  once  more 
to  Linnet. 


«!,;; 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


AN   ECCLESIASTICAL  QUESTION 


While  Cophctuas  Adventure  was  running  at  the  Har- 
mony, Will  necessarily  saw  a  good  deal  of  Linnet.  Sig- 
nora  Casalmonte  was  now  the  talk  of  the  town.  Her 
name  cropped  up  everywhere.  Many  men  paid  her  most 
assiduous  court.  She  was  greatly  in  request  for  meets 
of  the  Four-in-hand  Club,  for  Sundays  at  the  Lyric,  for 
picnics  at  Virginia  Water,  for  little  dinners  nt  Richmond. 
To  all  of  them  Linnet  went  in  her  innocent  way — that 
deeper-seated  innocence  that  sees  and  knows  much  evil, 
yet  passes  unscathed  through  it;  for  the  innocence  that 
springs  from  mere  ignorance  alone  is  hardly  worth  count- 
ing. Andreas  accompanied  her  everywhere  with  martial 
solicitude ;  the  foolish  were  wont  to  say  he  was  a  jealous 
fellow;  wiser  heads  saw  well  he  was  only  making  sure 
that  the  throat  which  uttered  such  valuable  notes  should 
take  no  hurt  from  night  air  or  injudicious  ices.  It  was 
the  singer,  not  the  woman,  Andreas  guarded  so  close — 
the  singer  herself,  and  the  money  she  brought  him. 

For  Will  Deverill,  however,  as  a  special  old  friend, 
Andreas  always  made  very  great  concessions.  He  knew 
it  did  Linnet  good  to  see  much  of  her  Englishman ;  and 
what  did  Linnet  good  gave  resonance  to  her  voice,  and  in- 
creased by  so  much  her  net  money  value.  So  Will  was 
allowed  every  chance  of  meeting  her.  When  the  weather 
permitted  it,  the  Hausbergers  often  went  down  by  the 
first  train  on  Sunday  morning  to  Leith  Hill,  or  Hind 
Head,  or  Surrey  commons ;  and  Florian,  and  Rue,  and 
Will  Deverill,  and  Philippina,  were  frequently  of  the  com- 
pany. On  such  occasions,  Will  noticed,  he  was  often  sent 
on,  as  if  of  set  design,  to  walk  in  front  with  Linnet,  while 
Florian  paired  in  the  middle  distance  with  Rue,  and  An- 
dreas Hausberger  himself,  being  the  heaviest  of  the  six, 
brought   up   the   rear   with   that   strapping    Philippina. 

279 


i^^P^M 


280 


LINNET 


More  than  once,  indeed,  it  struck  Will  as  odd  how  much 
the  last  couple  lagged  behind,  and  talked  earnestly.  He 
remembered  that  look  Linnet  had  given  him  at  the  theater 
while  Cophetua  was  being  arranged  for.  But,  there, 
Philippina  was  always  a  flirt;  and  Andreas  and  she  had 
been  very  old  friends  in  the  Tyrol  together! 

On  one  such  excursion,  as  it  chanced,  when  Rue  was 
not  of  the  party,  Florian  brought  down  his  queer  ac- 
quaintance, the  Colorado  Seer,  and  an  American  friend 
who  had  lately  made  a  hit  at  a  London  theater.  This 
theatrical  gentleman  did  the  English  Stage  Yankee  in 
drawing-room  comedies  to  perfection  by  simply  being 
himself,  and  was  known  in  private  life  as  Theodore  Living- 
stone. He  was  tall  and  handsome,  with  peculiar  brown 
eyes,  brown  hair  and  beard,  and  a  brown  tweed  suit  to 
match  that  exactly  echoed  them.  Philippina  had  always 
been  a  susceptible  creature — she  was  one  of  those  women 
who  take  their  loves  lightly,  a  little  and  often,  with  no 
very  great  earnestness  or  steadfastness  of  purpose.  She 
flirted  desperately  all  that  day  with  he  handsome  stranger- 
Andreas  smiled  sardonically ;  he  himself  was  nowhere  by 
Mr.  Theodore  Livingstone's  side,  though  he  was  gener- 
ally a  prime  favorite ;  and  even  Florian  himself,  who  had 
resumed  at  once  in  London  the  amicable  relations  broken 
off  on  the  Kiichelberg,  felt  his  attentions  slighted  in  favor 
of  the  new  and  good-looking  American.  Philippina,  to 
say  the  truth,  was  all  agog  with  excitement  at  her  fresh 
acquaintance.  When  they  lunched  on  the  heather-clad 
slope  of  Holrnbury,  she  sat  by  his  side  and  drank  out  of 
the  same  cup  with  him ;  and  when  he  left  them  at  last  to 
descend  towards  Guildford,  while  the  rest  made  their  way 
back  on  foot  to  Gomshall  Station,  she  was  momentarily 
disconsolate  for  the  loss  of  her  companion.  Not  till  they 
had  gone  a  full  half-a-mile  or  more  did  she  recover  suf- 
ficiently to  bandy  words  with  Florian. 

"  Philippina  has  her  moments,"  Andreas  said,  with  his 
bitter  smile,  when  Florian  chaffed  her  a  little  on  her  evi- 
dent captivation,  for  the  brown  eyes  and  beard  of  the 
handsome  actor  had  quite  taken  her  by  storm.  "  Philip- 
pina has  her  moments  I've  seen  her  so  before,  and  I  shall 
see  her  so  again,  I  don't  doubt,  in  future.  She's  always 
volage."    And  his  lip  curled  curiously. 


AN  ECCLESIASTICAL  QUESTION        281 


iw  much 
tly.  He 
e  theater 
t,  there, 
she  had 

Rue  was 
ueer  ac- 
in  friend 
IT.     This 
ankee  in 
ily   being 
e  Living- 
ir  brown 
d  suit  to 
d  always 
;e  women 
,  with  no 
Dse.     She 
stranger- 
iwhere  by 
as  gener- 
who  had 
is  broken 
1  in  favor 
ppina,  to 
ler  fresh 
ither-clad 
nk  out  of 
at  last  to 
their  way 
mentarily 
it  till  they 
over  suf- 

with  his 
1  her  evi- 
rd  of  the 

"  Philip- 
nd  I  shall 
;'s  always 


"  Well,  volctsch  or  not,"  Philippina  replied,  turning 
round  to  him  sharply,  with  one  of  her  arch  little  looks — 
Philippina  was  always  famed  for  her  archness — '*  volatsch 
or  not,  Herr  Andreas,  I  haf  always  returnt  to  my  olt 
frents  at  last,  sooner  or  later,  haf  I  not  ?  " 

"  That's  true,"  Florian  answered,  taking  the  remark  to 
himself,  in  the  Florlanesque  manner,  and  fingering  his 
own  smooth  chin  with  his  white  hand,  lovingly.  '*  And 
I'm  sure,  Philippina,  if  it  comes  to  that,  your  old  friends 
have  never  forgotten  you,  cither.  In  London  or  at  Mer- 
an,  they've  always  been  the  same — to  you,  and  to  every- 
one." As  he  spoke,  he  gave  a  sidelong  glance  at  Linnet ; 
for  though  he  had  said  in  his  haste,  once,  the  grapes  were 
sour,  he  had  never  ceased  in  his  own  heart  to  admire  them 
greatly ;  and  since  Linnet  had  come  forth  from  her  chrys- 
alis stage,  a  full-fledged  butterfly  of  the  cosmopolitan 
world,  decked  in  brilliant  hues,  and  much  praised  or  de- 
sired of  all  beholders,  he  had  paid  her  assiduous  court 
with  every  device  in  his  power.  It  was  Franz  Lindner's 
naif  belief  that  every  woman  must  yield  in  the  end  to 
money  or  diamonds,  if  you  only  bid  high  enough ;  it  was 
Florian's  equally  naif,  though  a  trifle  less  gross,  that  every 
woman  must  yield  in  the  end  to  flattery  and  address,  if 
you  only  flatter  long  enough.  So  he  pressed  himself 
assiduously  upon  Linnet's  attention,  in  season  and  out  of 
season ;  and  Linnet,  who  now  regarded  such  compli- 
ments as  part  of  the  small  change  in  which  the  world  pays 
its  successful  entertainers,  took  very  little  heed  of  all  his 
hints  and  innuendoes. 

Andreas  was  wrong,  however,  in  supposing  this  fancy 
of  Philippina's  for  the  brown-eyed  American  was  merely 
one  of  the  good-humored  Tyrolese  girl's  passing  affec- 
tions. For  once,  at  last,  Philippina  was  fairly  caught  in 
a  genuine  attachment.  *'  'Tis  a  scratch,"  Andreas  said  at 
first ;  *'  she'll  soon  get  over  it."  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
Philippina  didn't.  On  the  contrary,  the  attack  grew  more 
and  more  serious.  In  a  week  or  two,  she  was  madly  in 
love  with  Mr.  Theodore  Livingstone ;  they  had  dropped  in- 
sensibly into  Christian  names ;  it  was  Theodore  this,  and 
Theodore  that,  and  Theodore  the  other  thing,  till  An- 
dreas, out  of  joint,  was  fairly  sick  and  tired  of  it.  What 
v/as  odder  still,  the  good-looking  American  on  his  side 


282 


LINNET 


l'^::  ■.ill. 


returned  the  feeling  with  interest.  PhiHppina  had  al- 
ways been  a  fine-built  girl  of  the  buxom  beauty  type,  very 
large  and  vigorous;  she  was  lively,  and  bright,  and  head 
over  cars  in  love;  and  the  American,  though  not  unac- 
customed to  female  admiration,  was  thoroughly  taken 
with  her.  Before  long,  it  was  evident  they  meant  to  make 
a  match  of  it.  Andreas  shrugged  his  shoulders ;  still,  he 
was  amused  and  yet  piqued  by  it.  Why  any  man  should 
ever  be  minded  to  marry  an  '  :tress  at  all — unless,  indeed, 
there  was  money  in  her — fairly  passed  his  comprehension ; 
he  felt  sure  there  was  no  money  in  poor  dear  PhiHppina. 
For  every  other  purpose,  the  ceremony  in  such  a  case  is 
so  absurdly  superfluous.  However,  being  a  wise  and 
prudent  man,'  who  trusted  much  to  the  mitigating  effects 
of  time,  Andreas  threw  no  obstacles  in  their  way,  and 
raised  no  objections.  He  only  observed,  in  his  dry  fash- 
ion, more  than  once  to  Linnet,  "  She'll  get  tired  of  him 
soon ;  it's  always  the  way  with  these  hot  first  loves ;  like 
straw  fires,  they  flare  up  fast,  and  cool  down  again  quick- 
ly." The  thought  seemed  to  afford  him  much  inward 
consolation. 

But  though  Andreas  saw  no  difficulties  in  the  young 
people's  way,  Linnet,  with  her  quicker  feminine  instinct, 
immediately  spied  one.  "  Is  he  a  Catholic,  PhiHppina  ?  " 
she  asked  almost  at  once,  somewhat  doubtfully. 

"  Ah,  no ;  he  isn't  a  Catholic."  PhiHppina  answered  in 
German,  with  a  nonchalant  air ;  "  he  belongs  to  some  queer 
kind  of  American  religion.  I  know  not  what.  They  have 
lots  of  assorted  religions  in  America,  I'm  told,  to  suit  all 
tastes.  His  they  call  in  English  a  hard-shell  Baptist.  So, 
of  course,  when  we  marry  we'll  have  to  get  a  dispen- 
sation." 

The  dispensation,  however,  proved  a  harder  matter  in 
the  end  than  PhiHppina  or  her  lover  at  all  imagined.  The 
Church  was  obdurate.  Florian,  who,  as  a  friend  of  the 
house,  had  been  called  in  to  assist  in  this  domestic  difficul- 
ty, and  who  knew  an  Archbishop— Florian,  in  his  easy- 
going Gallio  mood,  was  of  opinion  that  the  problem  might 
easily  be  solved  by  Mr.  Livingstone's  immediate  con- 
version and  reception  into  the  bosom  of  the  Church ;  a 
course  to  which  he,  for  his  part,  saw  iv  possible  objection. 
But,  greatly  to  his  surprise,  the  American  stuck  to  his 


AN  ECCLESIASTICAL  QUESTION        283 


had  al- 
pe,  very 
.nd  head 
ot  unac- 
ly  taken 
to  make 
;  still,  he 
n  should 
,,  indeed, 
hension ; 
lilippina. 
a  case  is 
vise  and 
[g  effects 
vay,  and 
Iry  fash- 
i  of  him 
tves ;  like 
in  quick- 
1  inward 

le  young 

instinct, 

ippina  ? " 

wered  in 
me  queer 
hey  have 
o  suit  all 
tist.  So, 
dispen- 

natter  in 
ed.  The 
id  of  the 
difficul- 
his  easy- 
im  mi^iit 
ate  con- 
!hurch;  a 
objection, 
ck  to  his 


grotesque  and  quaintly-named  creed  with  dogged  persist- 
ence. Why  any  man  should  trouble  to  haggle  about  a 
faith  where  a  woman  was  in  question,  Florian  couldn't 
understand — he'd  have  turned  Mahommedan  himself,  or 
Esoteric  Buddhist,  for  that  matter,  with  the  greatest 
pleasure,  if  it  gave  the  lady  one  moment's  satisfaction ;  and 
Mr.  Livingstone's  own  character  hardly  led  him  to  ex- 
pect any  greater  devotion  on  his  part  to  the  nice  abstrac- 
tions of  dogmatic  theology.  But  the  American,  though 
he  dealt  largely  in  fearsome  Western  oaths,  and  played 
poker  with  a  will,  and  was  not  more  particular  in  his  do- 
mestic relations  than  most  other  members  of  his  own 
uncensorious  profession,  yet  stood  firm  as  a  rock  on  the 
question  of  recusancy.  The  Inquisition  itself  would 
never  have  moved  him.  He  had  no  particular  reason,  in- 
deed, for  his  dogged  refusal,  except  an  innate  prejudice 
against  Papistry,  prelacy,  and  all  forms  of  idolatry;  he 
had  no  objection  of  any  sort  to  marrying  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic girl,  and  bringing  up  her  future  children,  if  any,  in 
the  Roman  Catholic  religion ;  but  he  stood  out  firm  him- 
self for  his  own  personal  Protestantism.  *'  A  hard-shell 
Baptist  I  was  born,"  he  said,  with  great  persistence,  "  and 
a  hard-shell  Baptist  I'll  die,  you  bet.  I  was  never  a 
church  member,  nor  even  an  inquirer,  but  a  hard-shell 
Baptist  I  was  and  will  be — and  be  durned  to  all  Papists." 
To  Florian,  such  obstinacy  on  so  unimportant  a  point 
seemed  simply  incomprehensible;  if  it  had  been  a  critical 
question,  now,  about  Pacchiarotto  or  Baudelaire  or  Pater's 
prose  style,  he  might  perhaps  have  understood  it:  but  in- 
fant baptism !  theological  quibbles !  an  obscure  American 
sect !  impossible !  incredible !  Still,  the  wise  man  has  to 
take  the  world  as  he  finds  it.  allowing  for  all  existing  fol- 
lies and  errors  of  other  people's  psychology.  So  Florian, 
who  was  really  a  good-natured  fellow  in  a  lazy  sort  of 
way,  when  things  cost  him  no  trouble,  went  to  see  his 
friend  the  Archbishop  more  than  once  about  the  dispen- 
sation. He  found  the  Archbishop,  however,  even  more 
impracticable  on  the  subject  than  the  hard-shell  Baptist. 
Those  two  minds  were  built,  indeed,  on  such  opposite  lines 
that  'twas  impossible  they  should  discuss  anything,  ex- 
cept at  cross-questions.  The  Archbishop,  tall,  thin, 
^scetiC;  ecclesiastical,  a  .churchman  to  the  finger-tips,  saw 


284 


LINNET 


1*  ,  .    •  ni 


ii< ';;:'! 


in  this  proposed  marriage  a  breach  of  discipline,  a  relax- 
ation of  the  Church's  rules,  a  danger  to  a  woman's  im- 
mortal soul,  and  to  heaven  knows  how  many  souls  of  her 
unborn  children.  Florian,  short,  dainty,  easy-going, 
worldly-minded,  tolerant,  saw  in  it  all  only  a  question  of 
obliging  a  jolly,  good-looking,  third-rate  actress,  whom 
marriage  would  perhaps  reclaim  for  a  few  brief  months 
from  a  shifting  seriec  of  less  regular  attachments.  But 
the  mere  fact  that  she  was  an  actress  told  against  her 
with  the  Archbishop.  Why  should  he  make  exception  in 
favor  of  a  young  woman  of  ill-regulated  life  and  flippant 
conversation,  who  belonged  to  a  profession  already  ill-seen 
by  the  Church,  and  who  wished  to  enter  into  one  of  the 
most  solemn  sacraments  of  life  with  a  professed  unbe- 
liever? The  Archbishop  interposed  endless  objections 
and  vexatious  delays.  He  must  refer  this  matter  to 
Rome,  and  that  one  to  further  personal  deliberation.  He 
must  satisfy  himself  about  the  state  of  the  young  woman 
and  the  young  man  by  actual  interviews.  Florian.  like 
most  others  of  his  type,  was  patient  of  delays,  and  seldom 
lost  his  temper ;  but  he  almost  lost  it  now  with  that  grim, 
thin  old  man  who  could  make  such  a  strange  and  unneces- 
sary fuss  about  allowing  a  third-rate  playhouse  singing- 
girl  to  contract  marriage  with  a  nondescript  hard-shell 
Baptist  I 

Two  or  three  weeks  passed  away  in  this  undecided 
fashion,  and  still  Florian  called  almost  daily,  and  still  the 
Archbishop  hummed  and  hawed  and  shilly-shallied. 
Philippina,  all  the  time,  grew  more  and  more  visibly 
eager,  and  the  hard-shell  Baptist  himself,  unable  to  enter 
into  his  Eminence's  ecclesiastical  frame  of  mind,  con- 
signed the  Archbishop  and  all  his  Church  to  eternal  per- 
dition ten  times  a  day  in  sound  round  Western  phrases. 
Florian  heartily  sympathized  with  him ;  it  was  absurd  to 
treat  so  slight  a  matter  so  seriously.  "Why,  Florian  him- 
self, if  he'd  been  an  Archbishop  (which  he  might  have 
been  in  the  great  age  of  Italian  churchmanship),  would 
have  granted  the  girl  dispensations  enough  in  less  than 
half  the  time  to  drive  a  round  dozen  of  husbands  abreast, 
if  her  fancy  so  dictated.  Hip  Eminence  couldn't  have 
asked  more  questions  or  insisted  on  more  proof  if  he'd 
been  buying  a  Leonardo  for  the  National  Gallery,  instead 


AN  ECCLESIASTICAL  QUESTION        285 


a  relax- 
an's  im- 
Is  of  her 
y-going, 
2stion  of 
s,  whom 
•  months 
Its.     But 
linst  her 
eption  in 
I  flippant 
y  ill-seen 
le  of  the 
ed  iinbe- 
(bjections 
latter    to 
ion.     He 
g  woman 
rian,  like 
id  seldom 
hat  grim, 
unneces- 
singing- 
lard-shell 

mdecided 
d  still  the 

shallied. 
re  visibly 
z  to  enter 
ind,  con- 
;rnal  per- 

phrases. 
absurd  to 
rian  him- 
ight  have 
)),  wonM 
less  than 
s  abreast, 
dn't  have 
)f  if  he'd 

,  instead 


of  handing  over  the  precarious  possession  of  a  Tyrolese 
cow-girl  to  a  handsome  but  highly  flavored  Western- 
American  mountebank. 

At  last,  when  Florian  returned,  much  disturbed,  from 
his  sixth  or  seventh  unusccessful  interview,  to  Linnet's 
house  in  Avenue  Road,  where  he  was  to  meet  Philippina 
and  her  betrothed  by  special  appointment,  his  hansom 
drew  up  at  the  door  just  as  Philippina  herself  and  Mr. 
Theodore  Livingstone,  in  their  most  Sunday  array,  dis- 
appeared into  the  vestibule.  Florian  followed  them  fast 
upstairs  into  Linnet's  drawing-room.  Andreas  Haus- 
berger  was  there,  with  Linnet  by  his  side ;  Philippina  and 
Mr.  Livingstone  looked  radiantly  happy,  and  bursting 
with  excitement. 

"  Well,  the  Archbishop  still  refuses,"  Florian  ex- 
claimed, with  great  disgust,  dropping  exhausted  on  a  sofa. 
"  I  never  in  my  life  met  such  a  stubborn  old  dromedary. 
I've  tried  him  with  reason,  and  Fve  tried  him  with  ridi- 
cule, and  Fve  tried  him  with  authority,  but  nothing  an- 
swers. He's  impervious  to  any  of  'em — a  typical  pachy- 
derm. I  don't  believe,  myself,  if  you  gird  at  him  for  a 
year,  you'll  get  anything  out  of  him." 

"  It  doesn't  matter  now,"  Philippina  answered,  glibly, 
withdrawing  her  light  glove.  "  Theodore  and  I  haf  taken 
ze  law  into  our  own  hands.  He  persuade  me  to  it  zis 
morning.  I  do  not  care  by  zis  time,  were  it  for  twenty 
Archbishops." 

"  Oh  dear,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  Linnet  cried,  all 
aghast,  regarding  her  friend  with  profound  dismay. 

Philippina  held  up  her  left  hand  significantly.  "  Just 
zat ! "  she  cried,  with  a  little  air  of  petulant  triumph, 
touching  a  plain  gold  ring  on  her  third  finger.  Then  she 
turned  to  Theodore.  "  My  husband  I  "  she  said,  smiling, 
as  if  to  introduce  him  in  his  novel  capacity. 

"  I'd  arranged  it  all  beforehand,"  the  American  ex- 
plained, coming  to  her  aid  at  once  with  a  somewhat  ex- 
ulting air ;  "  I'd  got  the  license,  and  put  everything  well 
in  hand  against  the  Archbishop's  consent ;  and  this  morn- 
ing I  felt  I  wasn't  going  to  wait  knocking  about  for  the 
blamed  thing  any  longer.  So  I  persuaded  Philippina,  and 
Philippina  gave  way;  and  we  were  married  by  twelve 
o'clock  at  a  Baptist  Chapel,  by  a  minister  of  religion,  as 


286 


LINNET 


i'n 


the  Act  directs,  in  the  presence  of  the  registrar.  1  expect 
that's  about  as  binding  as  you  make  'em  in  England ;  an 
Archbishop  himself  couldn't  fix  it  up  any  firmer  with  a 
dozen  dispensations." 

"  I  congratulate  you!  '  Florian  cried,  fanning  his  face 
with  his  hand.  "  You've  done  the  right  thing.  Arch- 
bishops. I  take  it,  are  impracticable  anachronisms.  It's 
absurd  to  let  these  priests  interfere  with  one's  individu- 
ality in  such  a  private  matter." 

But  Linnet  started  back  with  an  awestruck  face.  "  O 
Philippina,"  she  cried,  "  how  dreadful !  Why,  a  Catholic 
wouldn't  think  you  were  married  at  all !  There's  been  no 
sacrament.  From  the  Church's  point  of  view,  you  might 
almost  as  well  not  have  gone  before  the  registrar." 

Florian  laughed  down  her  scruples.  The  happy  bride- 
groom, never  doubting  in  his  own  soul  the  validity  of 
his  marriage,  invited  them  all  to  dine  with  him  that  eve- 
ning at  the  Criterion  before  the  theater.  But  a  little  later 
in  the  afternoon,  when  the  women  had  left  the  room.  An- 
dreas Hausberger  drew  Florian  mysteriously  aside. 
"  Linnet's  quite  right,"  he  whispered  in  the  philosopher's 
ear.  "  I  know  my  countrywomen.  Philippina'll  be  as 
happy  as  the  day  is  long — for  a  matter  of  a  week  or  two ; 
nd  then,  when  she  comes  to  think  over  what  it  is  she's 
done,  she'll  never  forgive  herself.  From  the  Catholic  point 
of  view,  this  is  no  marriage  at  all.  Philippina  must  answer 
for  it  sooner  or  later  to  the  priests :  and  they  won't  be  too 
gentle  to  her." 


•  ti'Si 


I  expect 
and ;  an 
•  with  a 

his  face 

Arch- 

ns.     It's 

ndividu- 

ce.  "O 
Catholic 
;  been  no 
DU  might 
r." 

py  bride- 
d'idity  of 
that  eve- 
ittle  later 
oom,  An- 
ly  aside, 
osopher's 
,'11  be  as 

or  two; 

is  she's 
olic  point 
st  answer 
n't  be  too 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL 


Andreas  Hausberger  was  right.  Philippina's  nemesis 
found  her  out  all  too  quickly.  Just  six  weeks  later,  Will 
Deverill  had  called  round  one  afternoon  at  Florian's  rooms 
in  Grosvenor  Gardens.  They  were  engaged  in  discussing 
Florian's  latest  purchase — an  etching  of  a  wood-nymph 
after  a  new  Dutch  artist,  very  pure  and  precious — when 
Mr.  Barnes,  that  impeccable  man-servant,  opened  the  door 
with  a  flourish,  and  announced  in  his  cut-and-dried  of- 
ficial voice,  "  Signora  Cazzlemonty ;  Mrs.  Theodore  Liv- 
ingstone !  " 

And  Linnet  and  Philippina  burst  in  upon  them  like  a 
whirlwind. 

Will  rose  hurriedly  to  greet  them.  In  a  moment,  he 
saw  something  serious  was  amiss.  Philippina's  eyes  were 
red  and  swollen  with  crying ;  Linnet's,  though  less  blood- 
shot, looked  weary  and  anxious.  "  Why,  Madre  de  Dios, 
what's  the  matter?"  Florian  exclaimed  in  his  affected 
way,  rushing  forward  effusively  in  his  brown  velvet  smok- 
ing-coat.  "  My  dear  Signora,  to  what  happy  star  do  I 
owe  the  honor  of  this  unexpected  visit?  And  all  unbid- 
den, too !     Such  good  luck  is  too  infrequent !  " 

"  It's  poor  Philippina ! "  Linnet  cried,  half-inarticulate 
with  sympathy.  "  She's  in  such  a  dreadful  state.  She 
really  doesn't  know  what  on  earth  to  do  about  it." 

Florian  smiled  the  calm  smile  of  superior  wisdom. 
"  What,  already  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  raising  one  impressive 
hand.  "  So  soon  ?  So  soon  ?  A  little  rift  within  the 
lute,  a  little  tiff  with  her  Theodore?  Well,  well,  dear, 
Diva,  we  know  these  offences  must  needs  come,  in  the 
best  regulated  families.  They're  part  and  parcel  of  our 
ridiculous  marriage  system.  Will  and  I  are  wiser  in  our 
generation,  you  see ;  we  keep  well  out  of  it." 

"  No,  no ;  it  is  not  zat !  "  Philippina  cried,  excitedly. 

287 


288 


LINNET 


Then  turning  to  Will,  she  burst  out  in  German,  *'  I've  been 
to  see  the  priest  and  the  bishop  to-day,  to  ask  for  absolu- 
tion, and  it's  all  no  use ;  they'll  neither  of  them  give  it  to 
me.  I've  been  to  ask  them  again  and  again  these  two 
weeks ;  but  they're  hard  like  rock ;  hard,  hard,  as  that 
mantlepiece :  they  refuse  to  forgive  me.  They  say  it's  no 
true  marriage  at  all  that  I've  made,  but  the  lusts  of  the 
flesh — a  sinful  union.  Ach !  what  shall  I  do,  what  ever 
shall  I  do?  This  is  terrible,  terrible!"  And  she  wrung 
her  hands  hard.     "  It'll  kill  me,"  slit  cried ;  "  it'll  kill  me." 

Linnet  turned  in  explanation  to  the  bewildered  Flo- 
rian.  "  You  see,"  she  said  simply,  "  she's  living  in  sin 
now,  and  they  won  t  absolve  her.  She  may  not  take  the 
mass,  nor  receive  the  sacraments  of  the  Church  in  any 
form.  She's  like  one  excommunicated.  If  she  died  to- 
morrow, they  would  refuse  her  extreme  unction ;  she 
would  pass  away  in  her  sin,  and  must  go  at  once,  straight, 
straight  to  perdition." 

"  But  surely,"  Florian  ventured  to  observe,  turning 
theologian  for  once,  in  these  peculiar  circumstances,  "  her 
present  life — well,  my  dear  Signor^.,  without  rudeness  to 
the  lady,  we  must  all  admit  it's — h'm,  h'm — how  shall  I 
put  it?     It's  at  least  quite  as  innocent  as  her  previous 

llCk,UM.lS, 

Linnet  made  no  false  pretence  of  misunderstanding  his 
plain  meaning.  This  was  a  serious  matter,  and  she  felt 
its  full  seriousness  herself  so  deeply  that  she  sympathized 
with  Philippina.  "  You  don't  understand,"  she  answered, 
gasping ;  *'  you  don't  at  all  understand ;  you  can't  throw 
yourself  into  our  standpoint.  You're  not  a  Catholic,  you 
see.  and  you  don't  feel  as  we  feel  about  it.  To  sin  once, 
twice,  three  times,  till  seventy  times  seven,  T  care  not  how 
often — that  is  simply  to  sin :  and  if  we  repent  in  our  hearts 
— God  is  faithful  and  just — the  Church  absolves  us. 
But  to  live  in  open  sin,  to  persist  in  one's  wrong,  to  set 
the  authority  and  discipline  of  the  Church  at  defiance — ah ! 
that  to  us  is  quite  another  matter.  Philippina  may  have 
done  wrong  sometimes ;  we  are  all  of  us  human ;  Heaven 
forbid  I  should  judge  her" — she  spoke  very  earnestly; 
"  but  to  continue  in  sin,  to  live  her  life  without  the  sacra- 
ments and  consolations  of  the  Church,  to  remain  with  a 
man  whom  no  Catholic  can  recognize  as  really  her  hus- 


BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL 


289 


've  been 
■  absolu- 
ive  it  to 
lese  two 

as  that 
ly  it's  no 
ts  of  the 
'hat  ever 
le  wriinp: 
kill  me." 
red  Flo- 
ig  in  sin 

take  the 
h  in  any 

died  to- 
tion;  she 
,  straight. 

,  turning 
ces,  "  her 
idenes"^  to 
w  shall  I 
previous 

nding  his 
d  she  felt 
npathized 
answered, 
n't  throw 

lolic.  you 

sin  once, 
e  not  how 
our  hearts 

olves   us. 

ng,  to  set 
ance — ah ! 

may  have 
Heaven 

earnestly ; 

the  sacra - 
lain  with  a 
her  hus- 


band— that  is  too,  too  terrible.     And,  just  think,  if  she 
were  to  die — "  Linnet  gazed  up  at  him  appealingly. 

"  But  that  can't  be  the  Catholic  doctrine ! "  Will  ex- 
claimed with  great  vehemence. 

Florian  was  more  practical.  "  I  dare  say  not,"  he  an- 
swered, with  a  shrug — "  as  the  Catholic  doctrine  is  under- 
stood by  theologians,  archbishops,  and  casuistical  text- 
books. But  that's  nothing  to  the  point.  It  is  the 
Catholic  doctrine  as  these  women  understand  it,  and  it's 
sufficient  to  make  them  both  supremely  unhappy.  That's 
enough  for  us.  What  we've  got  to  ask  is,  how  can  we 
help  them  now  out  of  this  hole  they've  got  into  ?  " 

T!ie  longer  they  talked  about  it,  indeed,  the  clearer  did 
this  central  fact  come  out  to  them.  Philippina  had  mar- 
ried in  haste  without  the  Church's  consent;  she  was  re- 
penting at  leisure  now,  in  the  effort  to  obtain  it.  And  she 
sat  there,  cowering  and  quivering"  in  bodily  terror  of  those 
pains  and  penalties  of  fire  and  ilame  which  were  every 
whit  as  real  to  her  to-day  in  London  as  they  had  been 
long  ago  by  the  wayside  shrines  at  St.  Valentin.  Either 
she  must  give  up  her  husband,  she  said,  or  her  hopes  of 
salvation.  It  was  evident  that  ^^^  her  mind  the  little 
peccadilloes  which  the  Church  couid  absolve  were  as  ab- 
solutely nothing;  but  to  live  with  the  husband  whom  the 
Church  disowned,  appalled  and  alarmed  her.  Her  ago- 
nized terror  was  as  genuine  as  though  the  danger  she 
feared  were  actually  confronting  her.  She  saw  and  heard 
the  hissing  flames  of  purgatory.  It  made  Will  realize 
far  more  keenly  than  he  had  ever  realized  before  the  deep 
hold  their  creed  keeps  over  these  Tyrolese  women.  He 
couldn't  help  thinking  how  much  Linnet  would  suflFer, 
with  her  finer  mold,  and  her  profounder  emotions,  un- 
der similar  circumstances,  if  even  Philippina,  that  buxom, 
coarse-fibred  girl,  took  so  deeply  to  heart  the  Church's 
displeasure.  He  remembered  it  afterwards  at  a  great 
crisis  of  their  history ;  it  was  one  of  the  events  in  life  that 
most  profoundly  aflfected  him. 

Philippina,  meanwhile,  rocked  herself  up  and  down, 
moaning  and  trembling  piteously.  Will's  heart  was 
touched.  He  seized  his  friend  by  the  arm.  "  Look  here, 
Florian,"  he  cried,  all  sympathy,  "  we  must  go  at  once  and 
se^  the  Archbishop." 


290 


LINNET 


f     iif 


**  My  dear  fellow,"  Florian  answered,  shaking  his  head, 
"it  isn't  the  slightest  use.  I've  tried  too  long,  ihe 
man's  pure  priest.  Hear^-  or  pity  he  has  none.  The 
bov;els  of  compassion  have  been  all  trained  out  of  him. 
The  simplest  offence  against  ecclesiastical  law  is  to  him 
sheer  heresy." 

"  Never  mind,"  Will  answered.  "  We  can  always  try." 
It  struck  him,  in  fact,  that  the  Archbishop  might  perhaps 
be  more  easily  moved  by  himself  than  by  Florian. 
"  Pbilippina  must  go  with  us.  We'll  see  whether  or  not 
we  can  move  the  Churchman." 

They  drove  off  together  in  a  cab  to  Westminster;  but 
Linnet  went  back  by  herself  to  St.  John's  Wood. 

When  she  reached  her  home,  Andreas  met  her  at  the 
door  with  a  little  sneer  on  his  face.  Though  they  lived 
more  simply  than  ever  prima  donna  lived  before,  his  ava- 
rice grew  more  marked  as  Linnet's  earnings  increased; 
and  since  Philippina's  marriage  he  had  been  unkinder 
than  ever  to  her.  "  What  did  you  want  with  a  cab  ?  "  he 
asked,  "  wasting  your  money  like  that.  Wherever  you've 
been — without  my  knowledge  or  consent — you  might  at 
least  have  come  home  by  the  Underground,  I  should 
fancy." 

Linnet's  face  flushed  hot.  In  her  anxiety  for  her 
friend's  soul,  she  had  never  thought  of  such  trifles  as  the 
hire  of  a  hansom.  "  It  was  for  Pbilippina,"  she  said,  re- 
proachfully, with  a  good  home  thrust:  and  Andreas, 
wincing,  imagined  he  could  detect  a  faintly  personal  stress 
upon  Philippina's  name  which  almost  disconcerted  him. 
"  She  came  round  here  in  such  a  terrible  state  of  distress 
that  I  couldn't  help  going  with  her.  She  can't  get  her 
absolution ;  she's  almost  out  of  her  mind  with  it." 

Andreas'  face  set  harder  and  sterner  than  ever.  He 
eyed  his  wife  narrowly.  "  Pbilippina  can  settle  for  her 
own  cabs,"  he  said  with  an  ugly  frown.  "  What's 
Pbilippina  to  us  or  we  to  Pbilippina,  that  we  should  waste 
our  hard-earned  money  upon  her?  Let  Pbilippina  pay 
for  the  saving  of  her  own  precious  soul,  if  she  wants  to 
save  It.  Don't  spend  a  penny  upon  her  that  belongs  to 
your  husband." 

An  answer  struggled  hard  for  utterance  upon  Linnet's 
tongue,  but  with  an  effort  she  repressed  it.     Andreas 


BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL 


291 


lis  head, 
g.  1  he 
le.  The 
of  him. 
5  to  him 

ays  try." 
perhaps 
Florian. 

2r  or  not 

ster ;  but 

er  at  the 
hey  lived 
,  his  ava- 
ncreased ; 
unkinder 
cab?  "he 
er  you've 
might  at 
I   should 

for  her 
ks  as  the 
I  said,  re- 
Andreas, 
inal  stress 
rted  him. 
»f  distress 
t  get  her 

iver.  He 
e  for  her 

"  What's 
luld  waste 
)pina  pay 

wants  to 
)elongs  to 

1  Linnet's 
Andreas 


hadn't  always  thought  so  little  of  Philippina — before  she 
married  the  handsome  brown-eyed  American.  However, 
Linnet  refrained  from  answering  him  back  as  he  himself 
would  have  answered  her.  The  Blessed  Madonna  in  her 
hand  gave  her  strength  to  restrain  herself.  She  merely 
said,  with  a  little  sigh,  "  I  never  thought  about  the  cab ; 
it  was  Florian  who  called  it." 

Andreas  turned  upon  her  sharply.  "  So,  so !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, with  an  air  of  discovery.  "  You've  been  round 
to  Herr  Florian's !  And  the  other  man  was  there,  I  sup- 
pose !     You  went  by  appointment  to  meet  him !  " 

"  Herr  Will  was  there,  if  you  mean  him,"  Linnet  an- 
swered, fiery  red,  but  disdaining  the  weak  subterfuge  of 
a  pretended  ignorance.  "  I  didn't  go  to  meet  him, 
though;  I  didn't  know  he  was  there.  He's  gone  round 
with  her,  poor  girl,  to  see  the  Archbishop." 

Andreas  drew  himself  up  very  stiff.  He  hadn't  quite 
liked  that  stress  Linnet  put  on  Philippina's  name,  and 
he  wasn't  sorry  accordingly  for  this  stray  chance  of  a 
diversion.  "  So  Herr  Will  was  there !  "  he  repeated,  with 
a  meaning  smile.  "  What  a  singular  coincidence ! 
You've  been  seeing  too  much  altogether  of  Herr  Will  of 
late.  I'm  not  a  jealous  man,  but  mind  you.  Linnet,  I 
draw  a  line  somewhere." 

Linnet's  face  was  crimson.  "  It's  not  you  who  have 
had  cause  to  feel  jealous,"  she  answered,  quietly.  "  Herr 
Will  is  too  good  a  man  to  act  .  .  .  well,  to  act  as  you 
would  do.  You  knozv  what  you  say  or  what  you  hint 
at  isn't  true.     You're  put  out  because " 

"  Because  what  ?  "  Andreas  asked,  provokingly,  as  she 
broke  off  and  hesitated. 

But  Linnet  brushed  past  him,  and  went  up  to  her  own 
room  without  answering  a  word.  She  was  too  proud  to 
finish  the  sentence  she  had  begun,  "  Because  Philippina 
has  given  you  up  and  married  the  American." 

She  had  known  it  all  along — known  it,  and  never  mind- 
ed. But  she  felt  in  her  heart  the  reason  why;  she  had 
never  loved  Andreas,  so  how  could  she  be  jealous  of  him? 
He  had  married  her  as  a  very  sound  investment;  he  had 
never  pretended  to  care  for  her  at  all  in  herself ;  and  she, 
in  turn,  had  never  pretended  to  care  for  him.  But  now, 
in  an  agony  of  remorse  and  terror,  she  flung  herself  on 


292 


LINNET 


li 


her  bed  and,  with  white  hands  clasped,  besought  Our 
Lady,  with  all  the  strength  she  possessed,  to  save  her  from 
despising  and  hating  her  husband.  She  had  never  loved 
him,  to  be  sure ;  but  to  her,  as  a  Catholic,  marriage  was  a 
most  holy  sacrament  of  the  Church,  and  she  must  try  to 
live  up  to  it.  She  prayed,  too,  for  strength  to  love  Will 
Deverill  less — to  forget  him,  to  neglect  him.  Yet,  even 
as  she  prayed,  sho  thought  to  herself  ten  thousand  times 
over  how  different  it  would  all  have  been  if  she  had  mar- 
ried Will  Deverill ;  how  much  she  would  have  loved  him ; 
how  true  at  heart  she  would  have  been  to  him.  All  here- 
tic that  he  was,  his  image  rose  up  between  herself  and 
Our  Lady.  She  wiped  her  brimming  eyes,  and,  with  sobs 
and  entreaties,  begged  hard  to  love  him  less,  begged  hard 
to  be  forgiven  that  she  loved  him  now  so  dearly. 

Yet,  even  in  her  own  distress.  Linnet  thought  of  Philip- 
pina.  She  prayed  hard,  too,  for  Philippina.  She  begged 
Our  Lady,  with  tears  and  sighs,  to  soften  the  obdurate 
Archbishop's  heart,  and  make  smooth  for  Philippina  the 
path  to  Paradise.  For,  in  a  way,  she  really  liked  that 
big,  bouncing  alp-girl.  Unlike  as  they  were  in  mold, 
they  both  came  from  St.  Valentin ;  Philippina  was  to  Lin- 
net the  one  tie  she  still  possessed  that  bound  her  in  mem- 
ory to  the  land  of  her  birth — the  land  where  her  father 
and  mother  lay  dead,  awaiting  their  soul's  return  from 
the  flames  of  purgatory. 

That  evening  at  the  theater,  Philippina  burst  in  upon 
her  with  a  radiant  face,  as  she  dressed  for  her  part  in 
Cophetua's  Adventure.  "  It's  all  right,"  she  cried  aloud 
in  German,  half-wild  with  joy.  "  Mr.  Deverill  has  man- 
aged it!  He  spoke  to  the  Archbishop,  and  the  Arch- 
bishop said  Yes;  and  he  gave  me  absolution  then  and  there 
on  the  spot,  and  I  went  home  for  Theodore ;  and  I'm  to 
spend  to-night  at  a  lodging-house  alone,  and  he'll  marry 
us  with  all  the  rites  of  the  Church  to-morrow." 

Linnet  clasped  her  hand  tight.  "  I'm  so  glad,  dear," 
she  answered.  "  I  knew  he'd  give  way  if  Herr  Will  only 
spoke  to  him.  Herr  Will's  so  kind  and  good,  no  mortal 
on  earth  can  refuse  him  anything.  He's  a  heretic,  to  be 
sure,  but,  O  Philippina,  there's  no  Catholic  like  him !  .  .  . 
Besides,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  rearranging  the  folds 
in  the  Beggar  Maid's  dress  with  pretended  pre-occupa- 


BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL 


293 


tion,  "  I  prayed  Our  Lady  that  she  might  soften  the  Arch- 
bishop's heart;  and  Our  Lady  heard  my  prayer;  she  al- 
ways hears  me." 

As  she  spoke,  a  great  pang  passed  suddenly  through 
her  bosom :  Our  Lady  had  answered  that  prayer ;  would 
she  answer  the  other  one?  Would  she  grant  Linnet's 
wish  to  love  Will  Deverill  less  ?  Staring  before  her  in  an 
agony,  she  sobbed  at  the  bare  thought.  It  was  horrible, 
hateful!  A  flood  of  conflicting  emotion  came  over  her 
like  a  wave.  Sinful  as  she  felt  it  herself  to  be  she  knew 
she  never  meant  that  prayer  she  had  uttered.  Love  Will 
Deverill  less?  Forget  him?  Oh,  impossible!  She 
might  be  breaking  every  commandment  in  her  heart  at 
once,  but  she  couldn't  frame  that  prayer  she  must  and 
would  love  him ! 

Oh,  foolishness  of  men,  who  think  they  can  bind  the 
human  heart  with  a  vow!  You  may  promise  to  do  or 
leave  undone  what  you  will ;  but  promise  to  feel  or  not 
to  feel !     The  bare  idea  is  preposterous ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 


HUSBAND  OR  LOVER 


The  Haiisbergers  spent  tbit  winter  in  Italy.  Andreas 
thought  the  Londot.  air  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  Lin- 
net's throat,  and  he  took  good  care,  accordingly,  to  get 
her  an  autumn  engagement  in  Vienna,  followed  by  a  win- 
ter one  at  Rome  and  Naples.  The  money  was  less,  to  be 
sure,  but  in  the  end  'twould  repay  him.  Linnet  was  an 
investment,  and  he  managed  his  investment  with  consum- 
mate prudence.  Before  they  went  away,  however,  he  and 
Linnet  had  another  slight  difference  of  opinion  about 
Will  Deverill.  On  the  very  morning  of  their  departure, 
a  bouquet  arrived  at  the  door  in  Avenue  Road,  with  a 
neat  little  note  attached,  which  Linnet  opened  and  read 
with  undisguised  eagerness.  Bouquets  and  notes  were 
not  infrequent  arrivals  at  that  house,  indeed,  and  An- 
dreas, as  a  rule,  took  little  or  no  notice  of  them — unless 
accompanied  by  a  holder  of  the  precious  metals.  But 
Linnet  flushed  so  with  pleasure  as  she  read  this  particular 
missive  that  Andreas  leaned  across  and  murmured  casu- 
ally, "  What's  up?     Let  me  look  at  it." 

"  I'd — I'd  rather  not,  if  you  don't  mind,"  Linnet  an- 
swered coloring  up,  and  half-trying  to  hide  ic. 

Andreas  snatched  the  paper  unceremoniously  from  her 
trembling  hands.  He  recognized  the  handwriting. 
"  Ho,  Will  Deverill !  "  he  cried,  with  a  sneer.  "  Let's  see 
what  he  says!  It's  poetry,  is  it,  then?  He  drops  into 
verse !  "  and  he  glanced  at  it  angrily. 


"To    Linnet." 

**  Fair  fortune  gild  your  southward  track, 
Dear  bird  of  passage,  taking  wing. 
For  me,  when  April  wafts  you  back, 

Will  not  the  spring  be  twice  the  spring?" 


294 


HUSBAND  OR  LOVER 


295 


Andreas 
ipon  Lin- 
ly,  to  get 
by  a  win- 
less,  to  be 
^t  was  an 
1  consum- 
er, he  and 
ion  about 
departure, 
d,  with  a 

and  re?d 
otes  were 

and  An- 
il— unless 
tals.  But 
particular 
ired  casu- 

^innet  an- 

from  her 
ndwriting. 

Let's  see 
drops  into 


ig?" 


It  was  imprudent  of  Will,  to  be  suu;  but  we  are  all  of 
us  a  leetle  imprudent  at  times  (present  company  of  course 
excepted)  ;  and  some  small  licence  in  these  matters  is  ac- 
corded by  common  consent  to  poets.  But  Andreas  was 
angry,  and  more  than  merely  angry;  he  was  suspicious 
as  well — beginning  to  be  afraid,  in  fact,  of  his  hold  over 
Linnet.  At  first,  when  he  came  to  England,  the  wise 
impresario  was  so  sure  of  his  wife — so  sure  of  keeping 
her,  and  all  the  money  she  brought  him,  in  his  own  hands 
— that  he  rather  threw  her  designedly  into  Will's  company 
than  otherwise.  He  saw  she  sang  better  when  she  was 
much  with  Will;  and  for  the  sake  of  her  singing,  he 
lumped  the  little  question  of  personal  preference.  But 
of  late  he  had  begun  really  to  fear  Will  Deverill.  It  oc- 
curred to  him  at  odd  moments  as  just  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility,  after  all,  that  Will  might  some  day  rob  him 
of  his  wife  altogether, — and  to  rob  him  of  his  wife  was  to 
rob  him  of  his  most  serious  and  profitable  property. 
Why,  the  sale  of  her  presents  alone — bracelets,  Douquet- 
holders,  rings,  and  such  like  trifles — was  quite  a  small 
fortune  to  him.  And,  all  Catholic  that  she  was,  and  de- 
vout at  that — a  pure  woman  who  valued  her  own  purity 
high — quite  unlike  Philippina — Andreas  felt  none  the  less 
she  might  conceivably  go  off  in  the  end  with  Will  Deverill. 
The  heart  is  always  a  very  vulnerable  point  in  women. 
He  might  attack  her  through  the  heart,  or  some  such 
sentimental  rubbish ;  and  Lmnet  had  a  heart  such  a  fellow 
as  that  could  strike  chords  upon  easily. 

So  Andreas  looked  at  the  flowers  and  simple  little  ver- 
sicles  with  an  angry  eye.  Then  he  said,  in  his  curt  way, 
"  Pretty  things  to  address  to  a  married  woman,  indeed ! 
Pack  them  up  and  send  them  back  again ! " 

Linnet  flushed,  and  flared  up.  For  once  in  her  life,  her 
temper  failed  her.  "  I  won't,"  she  answered,  firmly.  "  I 
shall  keep  them  if  I  choose.  There's  nothing  in  them  a 
poet  mayn't  rightly  say  to  a  married  woman.  If  there 
was,  you  know  quite  well  I  wouldn't  allow  him  to  say 
it.  .  .  .  Besides,"  she  went  on,  warmly,  "  you  wouldn't 
have  asked  me  to  send  them  back  if  they'd  been  pearls  or 
diamonds.  You  kept  the  duke's  necklet."  And  she  hid 
the  note  in  her  bosom  before  the  very  eyes  of  her  hus- 
band. 


mm 


296 


LINNET 


Andreas  was  not  a  noisy  man.  He  knew  a  more  ex- 
cellent way  than  that  to  carry  his  point  in  the  end — by 
biding  his  time,  and  watching  and  waiting.  So  he  said 
no  more  for  the  moment,  except  to  mutter  a  resounding 
High  German  oath,  as  he  flung  the  ilowers,  paper  cover 
and  all,  into  the  dining-room  fireplace.  In  half-an-hour 
more,  they  were  at  Charing  Cross,  on  their  way  to  Vienna. 
Linnet  kept  Will's  verses  inside  the  bosom  of  her  dress, 
and  close  to  her  throbbing  heart.  Andreas  asked  no 
more  about  them  just  then,  but,  all  that  winter  through 
he  meditated  his  plan  of  action  for  the  future,  in  silence. 

Their  Ivvo  months  at  Vienna  were  a  great  success,  pro- 
fessionally. Linnet  went  on  to  Rome  laden  with  the 
spoils  of  susceptible  Austrians.  For  the  first  few  weeks 
after  their  arrival  in  Italy,  she  noticed  that  Andreas  re- 
ceived no  letters  in  Philippina's  handwriting;  but,  after 
that  time,  notes  in  a  familiar  dark-hued  scrawl  began  to 
arrive  for  him — at  first,  once  a  fortnight  or  so,  then,  later, 
much  more  frequently.  Andreas  read  them  before  Lin- 
net's eyes,  and  burnt  them  cautiously,  without  note  or 
comment.  Linnet  was  too  proud  to  allude  to  their  arrival 
in  any  way. 

Early  in  April,  with  the  swallows  and  sand-martins, 
they  returned  to  England.  The  spring  was  in  the  air, 
and  Andreas  thought  the  bracing  north  would  suit  Lin- 
net's throat  better  now  than  that  soft  and  relaxing  Italian 
atmosphere.  On  the  very  day  when  they  reached  Ave- 
nue Road,  Philippina  came  to  see  them.  She  greeted 
Andreas  warmly;  Linnet  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks. 
"  Well,  dear,"  she  said,  in  German,  clasping  her  friend's 
hand  hard,  "  and  how's  your  husband  ?  " 

"  What !  that  dreadful  man !  Ach,  lieher  Gott,  my 
dear,  don't  speak  of  him ! "  Philippina  cried,  holding  up 
both  her  hands  in  holy  horror.  Linnet  smiled  a  quiet 
smile.  Florian's  forecast  was  correct;  Andreas's  words 
had  come  true.  Her  hot  first  love  had  cooled  down  again 
as  quickly  as  it  had  flared  up,  all  aglow,  like  a  straw  fire 
in  the  first  instance. 

Then  Philippina  began,  in  her  usual  voluble  style,  to 
pour  forth  the  full  gravamen  of  her  charges  against  Theo- 
dore. She  was  living  with  him  still,  oh  yes,  she  was  liv- 
ing with  him, — for  appearance'  sake,  you  understand; 


HUSBAND  OR  LOVER 


297 


and  then  besides — Philippina  dropped  her  eyes  with  a 
conventional  smile,  and  glanced  side-long  at  Andreas — 
there  were  contingencies  .  .  .  well  .  .  .  which  made  it 
necessary,  don't  you  know,  to  keep  in  with  him  for  the 
present.  But  he  was  a  dreadful  man,  all  the  same,  and 
she  had  quite  seen  through  him.  She  wished  to  goodness 
she  had  taken  Herr  Hausberger's  excellent  advice  at  first, 
and  never,  never  married  him.  "  Though  there !  when 
once  one's  married  to  a  man,  like  him  or  lump  him,  my 
dear,  the  best  thing  one  can  do  is  to  drag  along  with  him 
somehow,  for  the  children's  sake,  of  course  " — and  Philip- 
pina simpered  once  iiiore  like  the  veriest  school-girl. 

As  soon  as  she  had  finished  the  recital  of  her  troubles 
with  that  dreadful  man,  she  went  on  to  remark,  in  the 
most  oflfhand  way,  that  Will  Deverill,  presuming  on  his 
altered  fortunes,  had  taken  new  and  larger  rooms  in  a 
street  in  St.  James's.  They  were  beautiful  rooms — oli 
yes,  of  course — and  Herr  Florian  had  furnished  them, 
ach,  so  schoji,  so  sch'dn,  was  never  anything  like  it.  She 
saw  Herr  Florian  often  now ;  yes,  he  was  always  so  kind, 
and  sent  her  flowers  weekly — such  lovely  flowers.  Herr 
Will  had  heard  that  Linnet  was  coming  back ;  and  he  was 
hoping  to  see  her.  He  would  be  round  there  that  very 
night,  he  had  told  her  so  himself  just  half-an-hour  ago  in 
Regent  Street. 

At  those  words,  Andreas  rose,  without  warning  of  any 
sort,  and  touched  the  electric  bell.     The  servant  entered. 

"  You  remember  Mr.  Deverill  ?  "  he  said  to  the  girl ; 
"  the  tall,  fair  gentleman,  with  the  light  moustache,  who 
called  often  last  summer  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  I  mind  him  well,"  the  girl  answered, 
promptly — "  him  as  brought  the  bokay  for  Mrs.  Haus- 
berger  the  morning  you  was  going  away  to  the  Continent 
last  October." 

It  was  an  awkward  reminiscence,  though  she  didn't  in- 
tend it  so.  Andreas  frowned  still  more  angrily  than  be- 
fore at  the  suggestion.  "  That's  the  man ! "  he  cried, 
savagely.  "  Now,  Ellen  if  he  calls  to-night  and  asks  for 
your  mistress,  say  she  isn't  at  home,  and  won't  be  at  home 
ill  future  to  Mr.  Deverill." 

His  voice  was  cold  and  stern.  Linnet  started  from  her 
chair.    Her  face  flushed  crimson.    That  Andreas  shoulcl 


298 


LINNET 


so  shame  her  before  Philippina  and  her  own  servant — it 
was  hateful,  it  was  intolerable!  She  turned  to  the  girl 
with  a  tinge  of  unwonted  in?periousness  in  her  tone. 
"  Say  nothing  of  the  sort,  Ellen,"  she  cried,  in  a  very  firm 
voice,  standing  forth  and  confronting  her.  "  If  Mr. 
Deverill  comes,  show  him  up  to  the  drawing-room." 

Andreas  stood  still  and  glared  at  her.  He  said  never 
a  word,  but  he  clenched  his  fists  hard,  and  pressed  his 
teeth  together.  The  girl  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in 
feeble  indecision,  and  then  began  to  whimper.  "  Which 
of  you  am  I  to  take  my  orders  from  ?  "  she  burst  out,  with 
a  little  sob.     "  From  you,  or  my  mistress  ?  " 

"  From  me !  "  Linnet  answered,  in  a  very  settled  voice, 
**  This  house  is  mine,  and  you  are  niy  servant.  I  earn  the 
money  that  keeps  it  all  going.  Mr.  Hausberger  has  no 
right  to  dictate  to  me  here  whom  I  may  see  or  not  in  my 
own  drawing-room." 

The  girl  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  left  the  room 
with  evident  reluctance.  As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  An- 
dreas turned  fiercely  to  his  wife.  *'  This  is  open  war." 
he  said,  with  a  scowl ;  "  open  war,  Frau  Hausberger. 
This  is  sheer  rebellion.  You  are  wrong  in  what  you  say. 
The  house  is  mine  and  all  that's  in  it ;  I  took  it  in  my  own 
name,  I  furnished  it,  I  pay  the  rent  of  it.  The  money 
you  earn  is  mine ;  I  have  your  own  signature  to  the  docu- 
ment we  drew  up  before  I  invested  my  hard  cash  in  get- 
ting you  trained  and  educated.  I'm  your  husband,  and  if 
you  disobey  me,  I'll  take  you  where  I  choose.  Now  mind, 
my  orders  are,  you  don't  receive  Mr.  Deverill  in  this  house 
this  evening.  Philippina,  you  are  my  witness.  You  hear 
what  I  say.  If  she  does,  all  the  world  will  know  what  to 
think  of  it.  She'll  receive  him  against  my  wish,  and  in 
my  absence.  Every  civilized  court  puts  only  one  con- 
struction on  such  an  act  of  open  disobedience." 

He  went  out  into  the  hall,  fiery  hot,  and  returned  with 
his  hat.  "  I'm  going  out,"  he  said,  curtly.  "  I  don't 
want  to  coerce  you.  I  leave  it  in  your  own  hands  whether 
you'll  see  this  man  alone  agr.inst  my  will  or  not,  Frau 
Hausberger.  But,  recollect,  if  you  see  him,  I  shall  take 
my  own  course.  I'll  not  be  bearded  like  this  before  my 
own  servants  by  a  woman — a  woman  I've  raised  from  the 


HUSBAND  OR  LOVER 


299 


rvant — it 
the  girl 
ler  tone, 
very  firm 
"If  Mr. 
.m/' 

aid  never 

essed  his 

I  other  in 

"  Which 

out,  with 

:led  voice. 
I  earn  the 
er  has  no 
not  in  my 

t  the  room 
gone,  An- 
pen  war." 
ausberger. 
it  you  say. 
n  my  own 
'he  money 
the  docu- 
ish  in  get- 
md,  and  if 
nJow  mind, 
this  house 
You  hear 
iw  what  to 
sh,  and  in 
one  con- 


veiy  dregs  of  the  people,  and  ')ut  by  my  own  act  in  a  po- 
sition she's  unfit  for." 

Linnet's  blood  was  up.  *'  You  can  go,  sir,"  she  said, 
briefly.  "  If  Mr.  Deverill  calls,  I  shall  see  for  myself 
whether  or  not  I  care  to  receive  him." 

Andreas  strode  out  all  on  fire.  As  soon  as  he  was  gone, 
Linnet  sank  into  a  chair,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands, 
pressed  her  nails  against  her  brow,  and  sobbed  long  and 
violently.  The  little  Madonna  in  Britannia  metal  gave 
scant  comfort  to  her  soul.  She  rocked  herself  to  and  fro 
in  unspeakable  misery.  Though  she  had  spoken  up  so 
bravely  to  Andreas  to  his  face,  she  knev/  well  in  her  heart 
this  was  the  end  of  everything.  As  a  wife,  as  a  Catholic, 
let  him  be  ever  so  unworthy,  let  him  be  ever  so  unkind, 
her  duty  was  plain.  She  must  never,  in  his  absence,  re- 
ceive Will  Deverill ! 

Her  strength  was  failing  fast.  She  knew  that  well. 
Dear  Lady,  protect  her!  If  she  saw  Will  after  this, 
Heaven  knew  what  might  happen — for,  oh,  in  her  heart, 
how  she  loved  him,  how  she  loved  him !  She  had  prayed 
to  the  Blessed  Frau  that  she  might  love  Will  Deverill  less ; 
but  she  never  meant  it.  The  more  she  prayed,  the  better 
she  loved  him.  And  now,  why,  the  Madonna  was 
crumpled  up  almost  double  in  her  convulsive  grasp. 
Philippina  leant  over  her  with  a  half-frightened  air.  Lin- 
net rose  and  rang  the  bell.  It  was  terrible,  terrible. 
Though  it  broke  her  poor  heart,  she  would  obey  the 
Chr-ch;  she  would  obey  her  husband.  "  If  Mr.  Deverill 
calls,"  she  said,  half-inaudibly  to  the  servant,  once  more, 
"  you  may  tell  him  .  .  .  I'm  not  at  home." 

The  Church  had  conquered. 

Then  she  sank  back  in  her  chair,  sobbing  and  crying 
bitterly. 


irned  with 
"I  don't 
is  whether 
not,  Frau 
shall  take 
before  my 
d  from  the 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


DOCUMENTARY  EVIDENCE 


Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes  was  making  a  morning  call  one 
of  those  days  on  Mrs.  Theodore  Livingstone — better 
known  to  the  readers  of  these  pages  as  Philippina — at  her 
furnished  apartments  in  Bury  Street,  Bloomsbury.  Of 
late,  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes  had  been  down  on  his  luck ;  and 
the  weather  in  London  that  day  was  certainly  not  of  a 
sort  to  propitiate  the  nerves  of  a  man  who  had  been  raised 
on  the  cloudless  skies  of  Southern  Colorado.  Though  it 
was  early  April,  a  settled  gloom,  as  of  November,  brooded 
impartially  over  city  and  suburbs.  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes 
was  by  no  means  happy.  Society  in  London  had  grown 
tired  of  his  seership;  the  Psycho-physical  Entertainment 
at  the  Assyrian  Hall  attracted  every  night  an  ever- 
dwindling  audience ;  Maskelyne  and  Cooke  had  learnt  to 
counterfeit  all  the  best  of  his  tricks ;  and  things  in  general 
looked  so  black  just  then  for  the  trade  of  prophet  that  the 
Seer  was  beginning  to  wonder  in  his  own  inmost  soul 
whether  he  wouldn't  be  compelled  before  long  to  fall  back 
for  a  while  on  his  more  lucrative  but  less  reputable  alter- 
native profession  of  gambler  and  card-sharper.  How- 
ever, being  a  man  of  sentiment,  he  consoled  himself  mean- 
while by  a  morning  call  on  Mrs.  Theodore  Livingstone. 

Philippina  was  looking  her  very  best  that  afternoon, 
attired  in  a  coquettish  costume,  half  peignoir,  half  tea- 
gown,  especially  designed  for  the  reception  of  such  casual 
visitors.  And  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes  was  one  of  Philip- 
pina's  most  devoted  admirers.  Florian  had  introduced 
him  long  ago  to  the  good-natured  singer,  before  her  mar- 
riage, and  the  Seer  had  ever  since  been  numbered  among 
her  most  frequent  and  attentive  callers.  He  could  talk 
with  her  in  German;  for,  as  befits  his  trade,  he  was  an 
excellent  linguist;  and  Philippina  was  glad  when  she 

300 


DOCUMENTARY  EVIDENCE 


30 1 


could  relieve  herself  for  a  while  from  the  constant  strain 
of  speaking  English  by  an  occasional  return  to  the  free 
tongue  of  her  Fatherland.  Theodore  was  out,  she  said, 
glibly,  with  her  accustomed  volubility;  oh  yes,  he  was 
out,  and  he  wouldn't  be  back,  she  supposed,  till  dinner. 
No  fear  about  that ;  the  horrid  man  never  came  near  her 
now,  except  at  meal  times,  or  to  go  down  to  the  theater. 
He  was  off,  she  had  no  doubt,  with  some  of  his  hateful 
companions  in  some  billiard-room  or  something,  wasting 
the  money  that  ought  to  go  to  the  support  of  the  house- 
hold. If  it  weren't  for  herself,  and  for  some  very  kind 
friends,  Philippina  really  didn't  know  what  on  earth  would 
become  of  them. 

The  Seer  smiled  sweetly.  He  was  an  engaging  man. 
and  when  he  flooded  Philippina  with  the  light  of  his 
great  eyes  she  thought  him  really  as  nice  as  anybody  on 
earth,  except  Herr  Andreas.  They  sat  there  long,  and 
chatted  in  that  peculiar  vein  which  Philippina  affected 
when  she  found  herself  alone  with  one  of  her  male  ad- 
mirers. She  was  a  born  flirt,  Philippina,  and  though  she 
was  a  matron  now,  with  a  distinct  tendency  to  grow 
visibly  stouter  on  good  Englsh  fare,  she  had  still  all  that 
archness  and  that  liveliness  of  manner  which  had  capti- 
vated Florian  the  first  morning  they  met  her  on  the  hill- 
top at  St.  Valentin. 

As  they  sat  there,  exchanging  a  quiet  hre  of  repartee, 
with  many  ach's  and  so's  of  very  Teutonic  playfulness,  the 
lodging-house  servant  came  up  with  a  note,  which  Philip- 
pina tore  open  and  read  through  somewhat  eagerly.  The 
Seer  noticed  that  as  she  read  it  her  color  deepened — such 
signs  of  feeling  seldom  escaped  the  eyes  of  that  observant 
thought-reader.  He  noticed  also  that  the  envelope, 
though  directed  in  English  letters,  bore  evident  traces  of 
a  German  hand  in  the  twists  and  twirls  of  the  very  pe- 
culiar manuscript.  He  could  see  from  where  he  sat  an 
unmistakable  curl  over  the  u  of  Bury  Street.  A  curl  like 
that  could  only  have  been  produced  by  a  person  accus- 
tomed to  German  writing. 

Philippina  crumpled  the  envelope,  and  looked  vacantly 
at  the  fireplace.  The  fire  wasn't  lighted,  for  the  day, 
though  damp  and  dark,  was  by  no  means  chilly.  The 
Seer  noted  that  glance:  so  she  wanted  to  burn  it,  then! 


^n^^m 


302 


LINNET 


m 


m 


Philippina,  unheeding  him,  poked  the  envelope  through 
the  bars  of  the  grate  with  the  aid  of  the  tongs,  but  laid 
the  note  itself  on  the  table  by  her  side,  a  little  uneasily. 
The  Seer,  with  that  native  quickness  of  perception  whicli 
had  made  him  into  a  thought-reader,  divined  at  once  what 
was  passing  through  her  mind  ;  she  must  destroy  that  note 
before  Theodore  returned,  and  she  was  anxious  in  her  own 
soul  for  a  chance  of  destroying  it. 

Joaquin  Holmes  spotted  a  mystery — perhaps  an  in- 
trigue ;  but,  in  any  case,  a  mystery.  Now  little  family  af- 
fairs of  this  sort  were  part  and  parcel  of  his  stock-in- 
trade  ;  there  was  nothing  so  useful  to  him  in  life  as  posses- 
sion of  a  secret.  And  Philippina  was  indeed  an  open 
book ;  he  could  read  her  as  easily  as  he  could  read  a  pack 
of  cards  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers.  The  longer  he 
stopped,  the  more  obviously  and  evidently  Philippina 
fidgeted ;  the  more  she  fidgeted,  the  longer  he  determined, 
as  he  phrased  it  to  himself  with  Western  frankness,  "  to 
stop  and  see  the  fun  out."  Philippina  grew  more  and 
more  silent  as  time  went  by ;  the  Seer  talked  on  and  on 
with  more  unceasing  persistence.  Meanwhile,  the  fo^ 
without  grew  denser  and  denser.  At  last,  of  a  sudden, 
it  descended,  pitch  dark,  with  that  surprising  rapidity  we 
all  know  so  well  in  our  smoky  metropolis.  Philippina 
yawned ;  she  saw  there  was  no  help  for  it.  It  was  a  case 
for  the  gas.  "  Will  you  ring  the  bell,  Mr.  Holmes  ? " 
she  asked  languidly,  in  German. 

The  Seer  seized  his  chance,  and  rose  briskly  to  obey 
her.  As  he  brushed  past  her  side,  Philippina,  in  a  quiver, 
put  out  her  hand  for  her  letter.  The  room  was  black  as 
night.  She  fumbled  for  it  in  vain ;  a  cold  chill  came  over 
her.  "Why,  where's  that  paper?"  she  exrlaimed,  in  a 
tone  of  most  evident  and  undisguised  dismay.  "  I  wish 
I  had  a  match.     It  was  lying  here  a  minute  ago." 

Mr.  Holmes  stood  calmly  in  the  dark,  with  his  hand 
upon  the  bell-handle.  He  was  in  no  hurry  to  ring  it. 
"  You'll  have  to  wait  now,"  he  said,  in  bin  very  coolest 
manner,  "  till  the  servant  cames  up.  Unforiunately,  I 
don't  happen  to  have  a  match  about  me." 

"  There  are  some  upon  the  mantelpiece,  perhaps," 
Philippina  faltered  unwilling  to  rise  and  move  away  from 
the  tab'e  that  held  that  compromising  letter. 


DOCUMENTARY  EVIDENCE 


303 


through 
but  laid 
uneasily. 
3n  which 
nee  what 
that  note 
I  her  own 

s   an   in- 
iamily  af- 

stock-in- 
as  posses- 

an  open 
ad  a  pack- 
longer  he 
PhiHppina 
^termined, 
mess,  "  to 
more  and 
on  and  on 
e,  the  fos 

a  sudden, 
apidity  we 
hiHppina 
was  a  case 

holmes  ?  " 


Iv 


to  obey 
1  a  quiver. 
IS  black  as 
came  over 
imed,  in  a 

"  I  wish 


>> 


his  hand 

o  ring  it. 

sry  coolest 

unately,  I 

perhaps," 
iway  from 


"Oh,  that's  all  right!"  the  Seer  said  quietly,  in  his 
slow  Western  drawl.  "  Don't  trouble  yourself  about 
me.  I  can  see  very  well  in  the  dark  without  one."  Then 
he  began  to  read  aloud,  *'  Du  liebste  Philippina !  " 

Philippma  made  a  wild  dash  across  the  room  in  his 
direction.  This  was  horrible!  He  had  abstracted  it! 
But  the  Seer,  unabashed,  took  a  step  or  two  backward 
with  great  deliberation.  "  That's  all  right !  "  he  said 
again,  in  a  languid  tone  of  the  blandest  unconr^ern. 
"There's  nothing  fresh  here;  you  needn't  trouble  your- 
self. It's  only  a  little  note  from  a  very  old  friend,  signed, 
'  Thy  ever  affectionate,  Andreas  Hausberger.'  " 

Philippina  darted  once  more  blindly  in  the  direction  of 
the  voice;  Joaquin  Plolmes  heard  her  coming,  and  step- 
ped aside  noiselessly.  He  passed  his  practised  finger- 
tips again  over  the  lines  of  the  writing.  "  Very  pretty !  " 
he  said,  smiling.  "  Very  nice,  indeed — for  Signora 
Casalmonte!  Why,  I  fancied  you  were  her  friend. 
This  is  charming,  charming!  And  only  to  think  so  pru- 
dent a  man  as  our  dear  friend  Hausberger  should  have 
ventured  to  write  such  a  compromising  letter !  *  At  three 
o'clock  to-morrow,  at  the  usual  place,'  he  says.  Dear 
me,  that's  interesting!  So  you've  met  him  there  before! 
And  what  a  fool  the  man  must  be  to  go  and  put  it  on 
paper !  " 

Philippina  clasped  her  hands,  and  dashed  wildly  against 
the  sofa.  "  Oh,  give  it  back  to  me !  "  she  cried,  really 
alarmed.  "  What  will  Andreas  ever  say !  How  can  you 
be  so  cruel  ?     And  my  husband — my  husband !  " 

The  American,  still  wholly  undisconcerted  by  her  cries, 
popped  the  paper  inside  his  breast-coat  pocket,  buttoned 
it  up  securely,  drew  a  match-box  from  his  waistcoat,  and 
lighted  the  gas  with  a  calm  air  of  triumph.  "  Now,  don't 
he  a  fool,  Philippina,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  her  by  those 
plump  round  arms  of  hers,  and  pushing  her  back  with 
conspicuous  calmness  into  an  easy-chair.  "  Compose 
yourself!  Compose  yourself!  There's  nothing  new  in 
all  this;  we  all  know  what  you  are — Theodore  Living- 
sione.  I  suppose,  just  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us.  Why 
trouble  to  give  yourself  these  airs  of  tragic  virtue?  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear  girl,  they  don't  at  all  become 
you.     Nobody  expects  miracles  from  an  actress  nowadays 


m 


304 


LINNET 


•m 


— not  even  her  husband.  Besides,  I'm  not  going  to  make 
money  out  of  you;  you're  a  very  nice  girl,  and  you've  al- 
ways been  kind  to  me ;  so  why  should  I  want  to  show  this 
letter  to  Theodore?  What's  Theodore  to  me,  or  I  to 
Theodore,  that  I  should  bother  my  head  !o  uphold  his  do- 
mestic dignity?  No,  no,  my  child;  that's  not  the  game. 
I  hold  the  letter  as  a  threat  over  Andreas  Hausberger. 
Hausberger's  rich,  don't  you  see,  'md  his  wife's  his  for- 
tune. What's  more,  she  hates  him,  and  he  keeps  her  al- 
ways precious  short  of  money.  She'll  be  ready  to  pay 
anything  for  a  letter  like  this ;  it's  a  handle  against  him ; 
and  he,  for  his  part,  well-  —he'll  make  any  terms  she  likes 
rather  than  drive  her  away  from  him." 

He  took  up  his  hat.  and  made  a  courtly  bow  "  Good- 
by,  Philippina,"  he  said,  smiling ;  "  this'll  never  come  out 
at  all,  as  far  as  regards  yourself  and  your  husband. 
Hausberger'd  pay  me  well  to  keep  the  thing  out  of  court ; 
but  I  shan't  take  it  to  him;  I'll  go  and  offer  it  direct, 
money  down,  to  ;he  Casalmonte." 

He  walked  lightly  to  the  door,  leaving  Philippina  petri- 
fied. He  turned  into  the  street:  the  fog  began  to  lift 
again.  He  walked  briskly  on  in  the  direction  of  Portland 
Place.  Before  he  crossed  the  Regent's  Park,  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  his  plan  of  action.  It  was  no  use  trying  to 
blackmail  a  cool  hand  like  Andreas ;  he  must  offer  the  let- 
ter, as  he  said,  direct  to  Linnet.  He  didn't  doubt  she 
would  gladly  seize  on  the  pretext  for  a  divorce,  or  at  least 
a  rupture.  It  would  give  her  a  good  excuse  for  going 
away  from  the  man  whom  his  observation  and  instinct 
had  rightly  taught  him  she  despised  and  detested. 

He  rang  at  the  door  in  Avenue  Road.  By  a  lucky 
chance,  he  found  Linnet  in — and  alone :  her  husband,  she 
said,  was  out ;  he  had  gone  for  the  day,  she  thought,  with 
a  party  down  to  Greenwich. 

The  Seer  didn't  mince  matters.  With  American  direct- 
ness, he  went  straight  to  the  root  of  things.  "  I'm  glad  of 
that,"  he  said,  coolly,  "  for  I  didn't  want  to  see  him.  T 
wanted  to  see  you  alone.  I've  got  something  against  him  I 
want  to  sell  you." 

"  Something  against  him?  "  Linnet  cried,  puzzled.  "  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Holmes;  and  why  on 
earth  should  you  think  Fd  care  to  buy  it?  " 


DOCUMENTARY  EVIDENCE 


205 


"  Now,  just  you  look  here,"  the  Seer  went  on,  holding 
the  letter,  face  downward,  before  him  and  fumbling  it  with 
his  fingers;  "why  shouldn't  we  speak  straight?  What's 
the  good  of  going  beating  about  the  bash  like  this?  Let's 
talk  fair  and  square.    You  hate  your  husband." 

Linnet  rose  and  faced  him.  She  was  flushed  and  angry. 
"  You've  no  right  to  say  that,"  she  cried.  "  I  never  told 
you  so." 

The  Seer  smiled  sweetly.  "  I  wouldn't  be  a  thought- 
reader,"  he  answered,  with  unaffected  frankness,  "  if  I 
needed  to  be  told  a  thing  in  order  to  know  it.  But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  Don't  let's  quarrel  about  these 
trifles.  The  real  thing's  this.  I  have  a  letter  in  my  hand 
here  that  may  be  of  great  use  to  you,  if  you  want  to  get 
away  from  this  man — as  you  do — and  to  marry  Mr. 
Deverill." 

Linnet's  face  was  crimson  with  shame  and  indignation. 
"  How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing,  sir ! "  she  cried,  trying 
to  move  towards  the  door.  "  You  knoiv  it  isn't  true.  I 
never  dreamt  of  marrying  him." 

By  a  quick  flank  movement,  the  Seer  sprang  in  front  of 
her  and  cut  off  her  retreat.  "  That  won't  do,"  he  said, 
sharply.  "  You  can't  deceive  me  like  that.  Remember, 
I  can  read  your  inmost  thoughts  as  readily  as  1  can  read 
this  letter  in  my  hand.  I'll  read  it  to  you  now.  It's  to 
your  friend  Mrs.  Livingstone."  And,  without  a  passing 
tremor  on  that  handsome  face  or  a  quiver  in  his  voice,  he 
read  out  with  his  fingers  the  short  compromising  note, 
from  "  Thou  dearest  Philippina "  down  to  "  Thy  ever 
aff'ectionate,  Andreas  Hausberger." 

Linnet  faced  him,  unmoved  externally  but  with  a  throb- 
bing heart.  The  Seer,  as  he  finished  it,  darted  a  trium- 
phant glance  at  her. 

"  Well  ?  "  Linnet  said  quietly,  drawing  herself  up  to  her 
full  height. 

"  Well,  what'll  you  give  me  for  that,  in  plain  black  and 
white?  "  the  Seer  asked,  with  a  calm  tone  of  unquestioned 
victory. 

"Nothing!"  Linnet  answered,  moving  once  more  to- 
wards the  door.  "  It's  nothing  fresh  to  me.  I  knew  all 
that,  oh,  long  ago." 

"Knew  it?    Ah,  yes,  no  doubt,"  the  Seer  answered, 


nr^mmm^ 


nil 
•in 


I 


306 


LINNET 


lllilil 


I 


with  a  curl  of  those  handsome  lips.  "  There's  nothing 
much  in  that.  Of  course  we  all  knew  it.  But  it's  not 
enough  knowing  it.  You  want  it  written  down  in  plain 
black  and  white,  to  put  in  evidence  against  him.  You  sec 
he  acknowledges — " 

Linnet  cut  him  short  sharply.  "  To  put  it  in  evidence  ?  " 
she  repeated,  staring  at  him  with  a  bewildered  look.  "  In 
evidence  against  whom?  What  on  earth  can  you  mean? 
To  put  in  evidence  where?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Now,  don't  let's  waste  useful  time,"  the  Seer  in- 
terposed seriously.  "  This  is  a  practical  matter.  There's 
no  knowing  how  soon  your  husband  may  return.  I  just 
mean  business.  I  want  to  hear,  straight  and  short,  what 
you'll  give  for  this  letter.  We  all  know  very  well  you've  got 
enough  already  to  prove  the  count  of  cruelty  upon.  You've 
only  got  to  prove  the  other  thing  in  order  to  get  a  regular 
divorce  from  him.  And  the  proof  of  it's  here,  in  plain 
black  and  white,  under  his  own  very  hand,  in  this  letter 
I've  read  to  you.  Now  what  do  you  offer  ?  If  you  name 
my  figure,  it's  yours ;  if  you  don't — well.  Philippina's  a 
very  good  friend  of  mme  ;  here  goes — I'll  burn  it !  " 

He  held  it  over  the  fire,  which  was  burning  in  the  grate, 
as  he  looked  hard  into  her  eyes.  Linnet  drew  back  a 
pace  or  two,  and  faced  him  proudly.  "  Mr.  Holmes,"  ^lic 
said,  in  her  very  coldest  voice,  "  you  entirely  misunder- 
stand. You  reckon  without  your  host.  You  forget  I'm 
a  Catholic.  Divorce  to  me  means  absolutely  nothing.  I'm 
Andreas  Hausberger's  wife  before  the  eye  of  God,  and 
all  the  law-courts  on  earth  could  never  make  me  other- 
wise— could  never  set  me  free  to  be  anyone  else's.  So 
your  letter  would  be  absolutely  no  use  at  all  to  me.  I  knew 
pretty  well,  long  since,  the  main  fact  it  implies ;  and  it  mat- 
tered very  little  to  me.  Andreas  Hausberger  is  my  hi  - 
band — as  such,  I  obey  hiin,  by  the  law  of  God — but  ho 
never  had  my  heart ;  and  I  never  had  his.  On  no  ground 
whatsoever  do  I  value  your  document." 

The  Seer,  in  turn,  drew  back  in  incredulous  amaze- 
ment. Was  she  trying  to  cheapen  him?  He  interpreted 
her  words  after  his  own  psychology.  "  No ;  yon  don't 
mean  that,"  he  said,  with  an  unbelieving  air.  "  You'd  qct 
a  divorce  if  you  could,  of  course,  like  anyone  else;  and 


DOCUMENTARY  EVIDENCE 


307 


you'd  marry  that  man  Deverill.  Don't  think  I'm  such  a 
fool  as  not  to  know  how  you  feel  to  him.  But  you're  seem- 
ing to  hang  back  so  as  to  knock  down  my  price.  You 
want  to  get  it  a  bargain.  You  think  you  can  best  me. 
Now,  don't  let's  lose  time  haggling.  Make  me  an  offer, 
money  down,  and  I'll  tell  you  at  once  whether  or  not  I'll 
entertain  it." 

Linnet  gazed  at  him  in  unspeakable  scorn  and  contempt. 
"  Do  you  think,"  she  said,  advancing  a  step,  "  I'd  bargain 
with  you  to  buy  a  wretched  thing  like  that !  If  I  wanted 
to  leave  my  husband,  I'd  leave  him  outright,  letter  or  no 
letter.  I  stop  with  him  now,  of  my  own  free  will,  by  the 
Church's  command,  and  from  a  sense  of  duty." 

So  far  as  the  Seer  was  concerned,  this  strange  woman 
spoke  a  fore'  n  language.  Duty  was  a  word  that  didn't 
enter  into  his  vocabulary.  He  scanned  her  from  head  to 
foot,  as  one  might  scan  some  queer  specimen  of  an  un- 
known wild  species.  "  You  can't  possibly  mean  that," 
he  cried,  with  a  discordant  little  laugh,  for  he  was  used  to 
the  free  Western  notions  on  these  subjects.  "  Come  now, 
buy  it  or  not !  "  he  went  on,  dangling  the  letter  before  her 
face  between  finger  and  thumb.  "  It's  going,  going, 
going !     Won't  you  make  me  a  bid  for  it  ?  " 

He  shook  it  temptingly,  held  it  aloft;  it  was  valuable 
evidence.  As  he  did  so.  the  paper  slipped  all  of  a  sudden 
from  his  grasp,  and  fell  fluttering  at  Linnet's  feet.  Mr. 
Holmes  was  quick,  but  Linnet  was  quicker  still.  Before 
he  could  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  she  had  darted  down  upon 
it  and  seized  it.  Then  with  lightning  haste,  she  thrust  it 
inside  her  dress,  in  the  shelter  of  her  bosom.  The  baffled 
Seer  seized  her  hand — too  late  to  prevent  her. 

"  Give  it  back  to  me !  "  he  cried,  twisting  her  wrist  as 
he  spoke.  "  How  dare  you  take  it  ?  That's  a  dirty  trick 
to  play  a  man.     It's  mine,  I  say ;  give  it  back  to  me !  " 

Though  he  hurt  her  wrist  and  frightened  her.  Linnet 
stood  her  ground  well.  She  was  stronger  than  he  thought 
— with  all  the  stored-up  strength  of  her  mountain  rear- 
ing. She  pushed  him  back  with  a  sudden  burs*-  of  explo- 
sive energy.  "  You're  wrong."  she  cried,  indignantly. 
"  It  never  was  yours, — though  I  don't  know  how  you  got 
it.    You  must  have  stolen  it,  no  doubt,  or  intercepted  it 


m^ 


n\\v\ 


m 


308 


LINNET 


by  some  vile  means,  and  then  tried  to  make  money  out  of 
it.  I  don't  want  it  myself,  but  I  won't  give  it  back.  It 
belongs  to  Philippina,  and  I  mean  to  return  it  to  her." 

"  That's  a  lie !  "  the  Seer  answered,  catching  her  hands 
with  a  hasty  dash,  and  trying  to  force  her  on  her  knees. 
"  Damn  your  tricks ;  I'll  have  it  back  again !  "  And,  in  the 
heat  of  his  rage,  he  tried  to  unfasten  her  dress  and  snatch 
it  from  her  bosom. 

She  tore  herself  away.  The  Seer  followed  her,  still 
struggling.  It  was  a  hand-to-hand  grapple.  He  fought 
her  for  it  wildly. 

At  that  very  moment,  before  Linnet  had  time  to  scream 
for  help,  the  door  opened  suddenly,  and — Andreas  Haus- 
berger  entered. 


1 

II 


III. 
f '» ■ 


;y  out  of 
3ack.  It 
ler." 

ler  hands 
er  knees, 
nd,  in  the 
tid  snatch 

her,  still 
le  fought 

to  scream 
;as  Haus- 


CHAPTER  XL 


OPEN    WAR 


He  glared  at  them  for  a  moment  before  he  fully  took  it  in. 
The  Seer,  thus  suddenly  surprised,  loosed  his  hold  on 
Linnet,  and  drew  back  instinctively.  But  an  awful  feeling 
of  doubt  came  over  Linnet's  mind.  The  position  was  most 
equivocal — nay,  even  compromising.  Would  Andreas  mis- 
understand what  this  man  was  doing  with  her — one  hand 
held  on  her  wrist,  and  one  clutching  at  her  bosom  ? 

But  Andreas  knew  that  simple  loyal  nature  too  well  to 
doubt  her  relations  with  anyone — except  Will  Deverill. 
As  he  stood  there  and  stared,  he  saw  only  that  the  Ameri- 
can had  been  offering  violence — personal  violence — to  Lin- 
net. His  hot  Tyrolese  blood  boiled  at  once  at  that  insult. 
He  sprang  forward  and  caught  Joaquin  Holmes  by  the 
throat.  "  You  scoundrel !  "  he  cried  through  his  clenched 
teeth ;  "  what  are  you  doing  to  my  wife  ?  How  dare  you 
touch  her  like  that?  How  dare  you  lay  your  blackguard 
hands  upon  her? 

The  Coloradan  freed  himself  with  a  jerk,  and  shook  off 
his  assailant,  for  he  was  a  powerful  man,  too,  though  less 
sturdy  than  Andreas.  He  drew  back  half-a-pace,  and  faced 
the  infuriated  husband.  His  hand  wandered  half  me- 
chanically to  the  faithful  six-shooter,  which  after  all  those 
years  in  civilized  England  old  habit  still  made  him  carry 
always  in  his  pocket.  But  he  thought  better  of  it  after  a 
moment — these  Britishers  have  such  a  nasty  insular  way 
of  stringing  one  up  for  the  merest  accident ! — ^and  answered 
instead,  with  n  ugly  smile,  "  It's  her  fault,  not  mine.  She 
snatched  a  letter  away  from  me.  It's  my  own,  and  I  want 
it  back.     She  won't  give  it  up  to  me." 

Andreas  Hausberger  had  his  faults;  but  he  had  too 
much  sense  of  dignity  to  bandy  words  with  an  intruder 
who  had  insulted  his  wife — above  all,  to  bandy  them  in  his 
wife's  very  presence.     It  mattered  little  to  him  just  then 

309 


if 
I 


310 


LINNET 


lllll! 


fl)Kl      ' '  I   'llli 


what  that  question  about  the  letter  might  really  import. 
He  stepped  forward  in  his  wrath  once  more,  and  caught 
the  Seer  by  the  shoulders.  "  You  cur !  "  he  cried,  pushing 
him  before  him.  "  How  dare  you  answer  me  likv  that?  " 
And,  with  a  sudden  wrench,  he  flung  the  fellow  against 
the  door,  bruising  and  hurting  him  violently. 

The  Coloradan  rushed  back  on  him.  There  was  a  short, 
sharp  scufile.  Then  Andreas,  getting  the  better,  opened 
the  door  with  a  dash,  and  dragged  his  opponent  after  him. 
At  the  head  of  the  stairs,  he  paused,  and  gave  him  a  sound- 
ing kick.  The  Coloradan  writhed  and  squirmed,  but, 
strong  as  he  was,  he  found  himself  no  match  for  the  gi- 
gantic Tyroler.  Besides,  he  was  less  used  than  his  antago- 
nist to  these  hand-to-hand  struggles.  Andreas,  for  his 
part,  was  quite  in  his  element.  "  A  Wirth  who  can't  turn 
out  a  noisy  or  drunken  guest,  isn't  worth  his  salt,"  he  had 
said  one  day  to  Florian  long  ago  in  the  Zillerthal ;  he  was 
well  used,  indeed,  of  old  to  such  impromptu  encounters. 
The  Seer  on  the  contrary  was  more  accustomed  to  the 
bowie  and  the  six-shooter  than  to  wrestling  and.  scuffling. 
He  yielded  after  a  moment  to  Andreas's  heavy  hand,  only 
stopping  to  shout  back  through  the  open  drawing-room 
door,  "  Then  you  owe  me  fifty  pounds,  Signora,  for  that 
letter ! " 

Andreas  hauled  him  down  the  stairs,  dragged  him,  half- 
resisting,  through  the  hall  and  vestibule,  opened  the  front 
door  with  one  free  hand,  hastily,  and  kicked  his  man  down 
the  steps  with  a  volley  of  angry  oaths  in  his  native  Ger- 
man. Then  he  slammed  the  door  in  the  face  of  the  dis- 
comfited Seer  (who had  rushed  back  again  to  assault  him), 
and  went  upstairs  once  more,  as  outwardly  cool  as  he  could, 
but  hot  in  the  face  and  hotter  at  heart,  to  Linnet. 

Linnet  was  really  grateful  to  him.  The  man  had  fright- 
ened her.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  admired  her 
husband.  The  natural  admiration  that  all  her  sex  feel  for 
physical  strength  and  prowess  'n  men  was  exceptionally 
marked  in  her,  as  in  most  other  women  of  prim.itive  com- 
munities. "  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply,  as  Andreas 
strolled  in,  trying  to  look  unconcerned,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  confronted  her  stonily.  **  The  man  hurt 
my  wrist.  If  you  hadn't  come  in,  I  don't  know  what  on 
earth  he  might  ever  have  done  to  me." 


OPEN  WAR 


3" 


Andreas  stared  at  her  in  silence  with  close-knit  brows 
for  half-a-minute.  Then  he  said  in  an  insolent  tone, 
"  Now,  tell  me,  what's  all  this  fuss  he  was  making  about 
some  letter  ?  " 

His  question  brought  Linnet  back  to  herself  with  a  sud- 
den revulsion  of  feeling.  In  the  tremulousness  of  those 
two  scuffles,  she  had  almost  forgotten  for  the  moment  all 
about  the  first  cause  of  them.  But  now,  she  looked  her 
husband  back  straight  in  the  face,  and,  without  flinching 
or  hesitating,  she  answered  him  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice, 
"He  brought  me  the  last  letter  you  wrote  to  Philippina. 
The  one  making  an  appointment  at  the  usual  place  for  three 
to-morrow.  I  don't  know  how  he  got  it,  but  he  wanted 
to  sell  it  to  me." 

Andreas  never  moved  a  muscle  of  that  impassive  face, 
but  his  color  came  and  went,  and  his  breath  stopped  shor^, 
as  he  stood  still  and  stared  at  her.  '*  My  last  letter  to 
Philippina !  "  he  repeated,  with  a  glow  of  shame.  "  And 
that  fellow  dare  to  show  it  to  you !  I'd  have  choked  him 
if  I'd  known !  The  mean  scoundrelly  eavesdropper !  " 

Linnet  folded  her  hands  in  front  of  her  where  she  sat 
on  her  low  chair.  Her  air  was  resigned.  She  hardly 
seemed  to  notice  him.  "You  needn't  be  afraid,"  she  said. 
'*  It's  no  matter  to  me.  I  guessed  all  that  long  ago.  I 
didn't  want  your  letters,  or  hers  either,  to  prove  it  to  me. 
I  told  him  as  much.     To  me,  at  least,  it's  no  matter." 

"  And  he  offered  to  sell  it  to  you  ?  "  Andreas  cried, 
growing  in  wrath.  "  He  tried  to  make  money  of  it !  What 
did  he  want  you  to  buy  it  for  ?  " 

"  He  said  I  could  get  a  divorce  with  it,"  Linnet  answered 
simply. 

"  A  divorce !  "  Andreas  shouted,  losing  control  of  him- 
self for  once.  That  word  went  straight  home  to  all  the 
deepest  chords  of  his  sordid  nature.  '*  He  wanted  to  egg 
you  on,  then,  to  try  and  get  a  divorce  from  me!  He 
wanted  to  cheat  me  of  all  I've  worked  and  toiled  for!" 
he  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  clenched  his  fists,  and 
ground  his  teeth.  "  The  damned  rogue !  "  he  cried  once 
more.     "  When  I  get  at  him,  oh.  I'll  throttle  him !  " 

He  sat  for  a  minute  or  two  revolving  many  things 
angrily  in  his  own  burning  soul.  He  had  not  only  Linnet 
to  think  of  now,  but  Philippina,  too,  and  her  husband. 


312 


LINNET 


M 


Heaven  only  knew  what  harm  Jiat  man  might  do  him  in 
revenge  for  his  drubbing,  what  scandal  he  might  raise,  what 
devils  he  might  let  loose  upon  him.  If  Linnet  left  him 
now,  all  the  world  would  say  she  was  amply  justified.  And 
the  English  law  would  allow  her  a  divorce !  No ;  not 
without  cruelty !  and  he  had  never  been  cruel  to  her.  There 
was  comfort  in  that:  he  consoled  himself  in  part  with  it. 
He  had  spoken  harshly  to  her  at  times,  perhaps,  and  taken 
care  of  her  money  for  her — women  are  so  reckless  that  a 
man  must  needs  look  after  them.  But  cruel !  oh  no,  no ; 
she  could  never  prove  that  against  him ! 

"  Divorce !  "  he  said  slowly,  knitting  his  brows,  and 
leaning  forward.  "  He  talked  to  you  of  divorce.  Linnet ! 
That's  all  pure  gammon.  There's  no  divorce  for  a  woman, 
by  English  law,  without  cruelty  or  desertion.  I've  never 
been  cruel  to  you,  and  I'm  not  likely  to  desert  you.  You 
can't  get  a  divorce,  I  say.  You  can't  get  a  divorce !  You 
surely  didn't  promise  him  fifty  pounds  for  that  letter !  " 

"  No;  1  didn't,"  Linnet  answered.  "  I  told  him  I  didn't 
want  it.  Divorce  would  be  no  use  in  the  world  to  me.  I'm 
a  Catholic,  as  you  know  and  I  believe  my  religion." 

Andreas  stared  at  her  hard.  He  fingered  his  chin 
thoughtfully.  She  had  struck  the  right  chord.  How  fool- 
ish of  him  in  his  haste  not  to  have  thought  of  that  by  pure 
instinct!  Divorce,  indeed!  Why,  of  course,  the  Church 
wouldn't  hear  of  it.  To  think  that  a  Tyrolese  woman 
would  accept  the  verdict  of  a  mere  earthly  court  to  dissolve 
a  holy  sacrament !  "  You're  quite  right,"  he  muttered 
slowly,  nodding  his  head  once  or  twice ;  "  divorce  is  pure 
sacrilege.  There's  no  such  thing  known  in  the  Catholic 
Church;  there's  no  such  thing  known  in  the  Austrian 
Empire." 

He  subsided  for  a  moment.  Then,  all  at  once,  with  a 
bound,  another  emotion  got  the  better  of  him.  He  must 
go  out  without  delay  and  inquire  how  all  this  bother  got 
abroad  from  Philippina.  And  yet — 'twas  hard  to  know 
how  he  could  govern  himself  aright.  Not  for  worlds 
would  he  let  Will  Deverill  come  to  the  house  in  his  absence 
now,  after  all  that  had  happened.  Linnet  hadn't  seen  him 
yet  since  her  return  from  Italy.  If  he  came  in,  as  things 
stood,  and  found  her  in  her  present  mood,  Andreas  felt  he 
himself  couldn't  answer  for  the  consequences. 


OPEN  WAR 


313 


He  paused,  and  reflected.  For  Philippina's  sake,  for 
his  own,  nay,  even  for  Linnet's,  he  knew  he  must  go  out 
without  one  minute's  delay,  to  prevent  further  mischief 
with  Theodore  Livingstone.  But  still — it  was  dangerous 
to  go  away  from  Linnet.  Yet  he  must  make  up  his  mind 
one  .way  or  the  other;  and  he  made  it  up  quickly.  '*  I'm 
going  out,"  he  said  in  his  curt  tone,  turning  sharply  to  his 
wife,  without  one  word  of  apology  or  explanation ;  *'  but 
before  I  go,  I've  a  message  to  give  the  housemaid." 

"  Go  when  you  like,"  Linnet  answered  coldly.  Little 
as  she  cared  for  him  now,  little  as  she  ever  cared  for  him, 
it  hurt  her  feelings  none  the  less  that  he  shouldn't  even 
try  to  explain  or  to  excuse  himself.  His  very  silence  was 
insolent.     She  felt  it  keenly. 

Andreas  rang  the  bell,  and  then  crossed  his  arms  in  a 
sullen  fashion.  That  attitude  alone  seemed  to  exasperate 
Linnet.  The  housemaid  answered  the  bell.  He  looked  up 
at  her  with  a  scowl.  "  Ellen,"  he  said,  in  a  very  slow 
and  deliberate  voice,  "If  Mr.  Will  Deverill  should  call 
while  I'm  out,  will  you  tell  him  the  Signora's  not  at  home 
to-day?  She's  never  at  home  to  him,  you  may  say,  ex- 
cept when  I'm  present." 

Linnet's  blood  was  boiling.  These  perpetual  insults  be- 
fore her  own  servants'  eyes  were  driving  her  fL.:;t  into  open 
rebellion.  She  answered  not  a  word,  but  rose  with  dig- 
nity, and  went  over  like  a  queen  to  her  davenport  in  the 
corner.  "  Stop,  Ellen,"  she  said  calmly,  restraining  her- 
self with  an  effort.  "  I've  a  note  I  want  you  to  post. 
Stand  there,  and  wait  till  I've  written  it."  She  turned  to 
ler  husband,  whose  hand  was  on  the  door-handle.  "  Don't 
go,  Andreas,"  she  said  in  her  most  authoritative  voice.  "  I 
wish  you  to  read  it  before  I  have  it  posted." 

She  sat  down  and  wrote  hastily.  Then  she  directed  an 
envelope.  She  was  prepared  for  a  scene ;  but  if  a  scene 
arose,  she  was  determined  it  should  be  before  a  friendly 
witness.  Ellen  stood  by,  demure,  in  her  cap  and  apron. 
Linnet  spoke  in  English,  that  she  might  know  what  hap- 
pened. 

"  I've  written  to  Mr.  Deverill,"  she  said,  as  calmly  as 
she  coOd  manage,  though  her  voice  trembled  somewhat. 
"  We  haven't  seen  him  yet  since  we  came  back  to  London. 
And  this  is  what  I've  said :  1  hope  you'll  approve  of  it : — 


■P^'WP' 


3H 


LINNET 


(( ( 


& 


My  dear  Mr.  Deverill, — It  will  give  my  husband 
and  myself  great  pleasure  if  you'll  lunch  with  us  at  two 
next  Thursday.  We  want  to  talk  over  our  Italian  expe- 
riences.— Yours  sincerely.  Linnet  Hausberger.'  " 

Andreas  darted  at  her,  livid  with  rage  and  jealousy. 
"  You  shall  not  send  thai  note !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  German. 
"  I  forbid  him  the  house.     He  shall  not  come  near  you." 

Linnet  darted  aside,  for  her  part,  and  held  the  note  out 
to  Ellen.  The  girl,  terrified  at  such  a  scene,  and  at  her 
master's  loud  voice,  drew  back,  not  daring  to  interpose 
or  to  take  it.  Linnet  held  it  at  arm's-length.  Andreas 
seized  her  arm  and  wrenched  it.  "  You  shan't  send  it,' 
he  cried  once  more,  clutching  her  wrist  with  his  hand  till 
his  nails  drew  blood  from  it.  He  tried  to  seize  the  note 
again,  but  Linnet  was  strong  and  resisted  him.  He 
flung  her  violently  to  the  ground ;  but  still  she  held  it  out, 
crying,  "  Here,  post  it,  Ellen !  "  Andreas  was  beside  him- 
self now  with  rage  and  fury.  He  struck  her  several  times ; 
he  hit  her  wildly  with  his  fist ;  he  caught  her  by  the  hair 
and  shook  her  angrily  like  a  bull-dog.  The  marks  of  his 
hands  showed  red  through  her  thin  dress  upon  her  neck 
and  shoulders.  At  last  he  seized  the  note,  and  tore  it  into 
shreds,  flung  the  tatters  into  her  face,  and  struck  her  again 
heavily.  Linnet  bent  down  and  let  him  strike.  Her  blood 
was  up  now.  She  was  angry  too.  And  she  also  had  in- 
herited the  hot  heart  of  the  Tyrol. 

At  last  Andreas's  passion  cooled  down  of  pure  fatigue, 
and,  with  a  final  oath  or  two,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
left  her.  As  he  quitted  the  room,  he  stood  for  a  second 
with  his  haiid  on  the  door,  looking  round  at  the  startled 
and  horrified  maid-servant.  "  Mind,  Ellen,"  he  said  hus- 
kily, "  post  no  letters  for  your  mistress  this  afternoon ; 
and  if  the  man  Deverill  calls,  she  isn't  at  home  to  him." 

But,  as  the  front  door  closed  with  a  snap  behind  him. 
it  came  back  to  him  all  at  once,  that  wise  and  prudent  man, 
that  he  had  played  into  her  rebellious  hands  all  unawares ; 
he  had  given  her  the  one  plea  she  still  needed  for  a  divorce 
— the  plea  of  cruelt/. 


husband 
IS  at  two 
ian  expe- 

IGER.'  " 

jealousy. 
I  German, 
r  you." 
I  note  out 
nd  at  her 

interpose 
Andreas 

send  it, " 
i  hand  till 
e  the  note 

him.  He 
leld  it  out. 
eside  him- 
eral  times ; 
ly  the  hair 
irks  of  his 

1  her  neck 

tore  it  into 

:  her  again 

Her  blood 

so  had  in- 

re  fatigue, 
s  heel  and 
a  second 
he  startled 

2  said  hus- 
afternoon ; 
to  him." 
ehind  him. 
Lident  man, 

unawares ; 
r  a  divorce 


CHAPTER  XLI 

god's  law — OR  man's? 

Linnet  took  less  than  one  minute  to  make  up  her  mind. 
Not  twice  in  his  life  should  Andreas  treat  her  so  before  her 
own  servants.  She  was  too  proud  to  cry ;  but  as  soon  as 
her  husband  had  left  the  room  she  picked  herself  up  from 
the  floor  were  he  had  brutally  flung  her,  wiped  the  blood 
from  her  arm,  smoothed  her  hair  with  her  hand,  and  mo- 
tioned silently  .o  Ellen  to  follow  her  into  her  bedroom.  She 
motioned  to  her,  because  she  couldn't  trust  herself  to  speak 
without  crying,  and  never  now  should  she  allow  that  hate- 
ful man  to  wring  a  single  tear  from  her.  In  those  few 
brief  moments,  she  had  decided  once  for  all  what  she 
meant  to  do.  After  all  that  had  passed  just  now,  she  must 
leave  him  instantly.  The  crisis  had  come ;  Andreas  Haus- 
berger  should  suffer  for  it. 

Hastily,  with  Ellen's  aid,  she  packed  a  few  things  into 
her  little  portmanteau.  She  put  in  just  what  she  would 
most  need  for  some  evenings'  stay ;  she  put  in  also  her  dia- 
monds and  the  rest  of  her  jewellery,  not  omitting  the  coral 
necklet  Will  Deverill  gave  her  long  ago  in  the  Tyrol. 
Luckily,  she  had  in  her  desk  the  week's  money  for  the 
housekeeping.  She  took  it  out — it  was  her  own — and 
turned  more  calmly  to  Ellen.  *'  My  child,"  she  said,  lay- 
ing two  sovereigns  in  her  hand,  "  will  you  come  with  me 
where  I  go?  Remember,  Mr.  Hausberger  says  you're  his 
servant." 

And  the  girl,  looking  up  at  her  with  a  burst  of  com- 
pass^'on  and  enthusiastic  affection,  made  answer  at  once: 
"  I'd  go  with  you,  Signora,  if  they  was  to  cut  off  my  head 
for  it.  How  dare  he  ever  treat  you  so — such  a  man  as  him 
— and  you  a  lady  anyone  'ud  love  to  die  for !  " 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  Linnet  said,  much  touched ;  for  to 
her,  even  her  servants  were  perfectly  human.  "  Then  run 
iiD  and  put  your  things  on  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  ask 
Maria  to  call  a  hansom." 


315 


mmmmm 


316 


LINNET 


When  it  came  to  the  door,  she  stepped  in,  and  Ellen 
after  her.  "  Where  shall  1  drive,  Mum  ?  "  the  cabman 
asked.  And  Linnet,  through  the  flap,  made  answer 
boldly,  "  To  Duke  Street,  St.  James's." 

"That's  where  Mr.  Deverill  lives,  ma'am,  isn't  it?" 
Ellen  interposed,  somewhat  tremulously. 

"  Yes,  child,"  Linnet  answered,  with  a  choking  voice, 
but  very  firmly  still,  for  she  had  quite  made  her  mind  up. 
"  Mr.  Deverill  lives  there — and  I'm  going  to  Mr.  Dev- 
erill's.  I've  no  right  to  go — but  I'm  going  all  the  same. 
If  you'd  rather  not  come,  you  can  leave  me  at  the  door. 
You  know  what  it  means.     Perhaps  it  would  be  better." 

The  girl  glanced  back  at  her,  all  flushed.  "  I  don't  care 
a  pin  whether  it's  right  or  whether  it's  wrong,"  she  an- 
swered warmly.  "  I'll  go  with  you  to  the  world's  end.  I'll 
go  with  you  anywhere.  I'd  go  with  you  if  you  was  going 
to  the  worst  house  in  London." 

Linnet  answered  nothing.  She  was  red  with  shame 
— the  very  words  appalled  her — but  she  meant  to  go 
through  with  it.  Too  long  had  she  trampled  her  own  heart 
under  foot;  now  her  heart  would  have  its  way,  and  she 
meant  to  allow  it.  Her  fiery  Southern  blood  had  got  the 
better  of  her.  She  would  fly  from  the  man  who  had  mar- 
ried her  only  for  what  he  could  make  of  her,  to  the  man 
she  had  always  truly  loved — the  man  who  had  always 
truly  loved  her. 

"  Is  Mr.  Deverill  in  ?  "  she  asked  with  a  beating  heart  of 
the  servant  at  the  lodgings.  And  when  the  man  ans'vered 
"  Yes,  ma'am,"  in  an  unconcerned  tone,  her  heart  rose  like 
a  lump  in  her  throat  within  her. 

But  she  kept  her  exterior  coolness.  "  Bring  in  the  port- 
manteau, Ellen,"  she  said,  with  a  quiet  air  of  command; 
and  the  girl  obeyed  her.  "  Now,  sit  there  in  the  hail  till  I 
come  down  again  and  call  you." 

She  trod  the  stairs  like  a  queen.  Will  Oeverill  was  seated 
at  his  desk  at  work,  when  the  servant  dung  open  the  door 
with  a  flourish,  and  announced,  in  his  most  grandiose  tone, 
**  Signora  Casalmonte !  " 

Will  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  saw  Linnet  before  him. 

Her  face,  which  had  been  flushed  five  minutes  earlier, 
was  now  pale  and  bloodless  with  intense  excitement, 


GOD'S  LAW— OR  MAN'S  ? 


317 


and  Ellen 
le  cabman 
le    answer 

isnt  it? 

Icing  voice, 
r  mind  up. 
Mr.  Dev- 
1  the  same, 
t  the  door, 
be  better." 
[  don't  care 
g,"  she  an- 
d's  end.  I'll 
I  was  going 

ivith  shame 
eant  to  go 
;r  own  heart 
ay,  and  she 
had  got  the 
10  had  mar- 
to  the  man 
had  always 

ing  heart  of 
m  answered 
art  rose  like 

in  the  port- 
command  ; 
he  haU  till  I 

1  was  seated 
)en  the  door 
ndiose  tone, 

before  him. 

utes  earlier, 

excitement. 


^larks  of  fingers  stood  out  on  her  neck  and  wrists,  a  slight 
bruise  scarred  the  surface  of  her  smooth  left  temple.  But 
she  was  beautiful  still,  in  spite  of  all  such  accidents — very 
beautiful  and  winning.  She  stood  a  second  and  gazed  at 
liim.  At  sight  of  her  one  true  love,  her  bosom  rose  and 
fell ;  that  strange  wave  of  delight  she  had  felt  at  Innsbruck, 
and  again  at  the  Harmony,  thrilled  once  more  through  and 
through  her.  Of  a  sudden,  as  she  paused,  her  face  flushed 
rosy  red  again,  her  eyes  grew  bright,  her  full  throat  heaved 
and  panted.  She  spread  out  her  arms  towards  him  with  a 
hasty  little  quiver.  "  O  Will,  Will,  Will,"  she  cried,  in  a 
voice  of  complete  and  intense  self-surrender ;  "  at  last — I 
have  come  to  you  I  " 

Will  rose  in  surprise  and  moved  across  to  her,  trembling. 
He  seized  her  two  hands  in  his  and  gazed  at  her  longingly. 
"  Linnet,  dear  Linnet,"  he  cried,  drawing  a  very  deep 
breath;  "what  has  brought  you  here  to-day?  What  on 
earth  do  you  mean  by  it  ?  " 

Put  Linnet  had  flung  away  all  artificial  restraints  and 
conventions  now.  She  abandoned  Lerself  to  her  love  with 
the  perfect  abandonment  of  a  piire  and  good  woman,  when 
once  she  has  made  up  her  mind  to  repress  nature  no  longer. 
With  a  wild  impulse  of  delight  she  flung  herself  bodily  into 
her  lover's  arms.  She  flung  herself  into  Will's  arms,  and 
buried  her  head  confidingly  on  his  tender  shoulder.  Then 
she  broke  into  a  storm  of  deep-drawn  sobs.  "  It  means," 
she  cried,  between  little  bursts,  "  I've  left  him  for  evfer. 
That  man  I  never  loved,  I've  left  him  for  ever.  And  I've 
come  home  at  last  where  I  ought  to  have  come  to  nestle 
long  ago.  W^ill,  Will,  dear  Will — will  you  take  me?  May 
I  stop  with  you  ?  " 

In  a  transport  of  joy,  Will  clasped  her  to  his  bosom. 
Not  to  have  done  so,  indeed,  would  have  been  more — or 
less — than  human.  No  man  can  ever  pretend  to  be  other- 
wise than  overjoyed  when  the  woman  he  loves  flings  her- 
self into  his  arms  for  the  first  time  in  a  fierce  access  of 
passion.  He  clasped  her  long  and  hard,  breast  pressed 
against  heaving  breast,  and  lips  meeting  lips  in  a  sharp 
shower  of  kisses.  For  some  minutes  they  neither  knew, 
nor  felt,  nor  remembered,  nor  thought  of  anything  else  on 
earth  save  their  present  intoxication.     But  surely  those 


^ip 


■ 


i 


iiij 


a. 


l\SiJ 


3^8 


LINNET 


minutes  were  in  themselves  worth  hving  for !  What  mat- 
tered so  many  years  of  cruel  and  unnatural  repression  be- 
side that  one  fierce  draught  at  the  hot  wine  of  passion  ? 

After  a  while,  however,  Will  woke  up  to  a  true  sense 
of  the  situation.  Man  though  he  was,  and  therefore  ag- 
gressive, it  was  his  duty  first  of  all  to  think  of  protecting 
Linnet.  He  must  protect  her,  if  need  were,  even  against 
her  own  impulses.  He  must  learn  what  she  meant,  and 
what  could  have  led  her  so  suddenly  to  this  strange  decision 
— so  unlike  herself,  so  untrue,  as  it  seemed,  to  her  whole 
past  history. 

He  unwound  his  arms  gently,  and  placed  the  poor  sob- 
bing, throbbing  girl,  half-unresisted,  in  an  arm-chair  by 
the  fireplace.  Then  he  drew  up  a  seat  for  himself  very 
close  by  her  side,  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  soothed  it  gently 
with  his  other  one.  "  He's  been  cruel  to  you,  Linnet,  I  can 
see,"  he  murmured  softly  in  her  car.  Now,  what  has  led 
you  to  this  ?    Tell  me  all  he  has  done  to  you." 

Thereat,  Linnet,  holding  his  hand  hard,  and  looking  deep 
into  his  eyes,  yet  crimson  for  very  shame,  began  in  her 
own  tongue  the  story  of  their  interview.  She  hid  nothins: 
from  Will,  and  extenuated  nothing.  She  told  him  in  full 
how  Joaquin  Holmes  had  brought  her  Andreas's  letter  to 
Philippina  and  oflFered  it  for  sale ;  how  she  had  refused  to 
buy  it,  or  have  anything  to  do  with  it ;  how  he  had  dropped 
it  by  accident  and  she  had  picked  it  up  before  him,  intend- 
ing to  restore  it  to  its  rightful  owner ;  how  a  scuffle  had  en- 
sued, in  the  midst  of  which  Andreas  had  unexpectedly  en- 
tered; how  in  his  wrath  at  being  discovere  ;,  he  had  fairly 
lost  his  temper,  and  provoked  her  for  once  to  an  act  of 
rebellion;  and  how  in  his  rage  at  her  note  Ik?  '  ud  turned 
upon  her  bodily,  and  inflicted  the  marks  Will  could  see  so 
plainly  now  upon  her  person.  Only  the  question  of  divorce 
she  never  touched  on ;  a  certain  feminine  delicacy  made  her 
shrink  from  alluding  to  it.  Will  listened  to  every  word 
with  profound  attention,  letting  her  tell  her  own  tale  her 
own  way,  unquestioned,  but  stroking  her  hand  from  time 
to  time  very  gently  with  his  own,  or  smoothing  her  fiery 
cheeks  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers  in  silent  sympathy. 

At  last  she  ceased,  and  looked  hard  at  Will,  inquiringly. 
**  So  I've  come  to  you,  Will,"  she  said,  in  her  simple  way, 


GOD'S  LAW— OR  MAN'S  ? 


319 


with  childlike  confidence ;  "  and,  now  I've  come,  may  I 
stop  with  you  always  ?    May  I  never  go  away  again  ?  " 

Will's  heart  beat  high.  Her  loving  trust,  her  perfect 
self-surrender,  could  not  fail  to  touch  him.  Yet  he  gazed 
at  her  ruefully.  "  My  darling,"  he  said  with  a  burst,  be- 
lying his  words  as  he  spoke  by  laying  her  soft  head  once 
more  in  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder;  "you  shouldn't  have 
come  to  me.  You've  done  very  very  wrong — very  foolishly 
I  mean.  I'm  the  exact  last  person  on  earth  you  should 
have  come  to." 

Linnet  nestled  to  him  close.  "  But  I  love  you,"  she 
cried,  pleadingly.  "  You're  the  only  living  soul  I'd  have 
cared  to  come  to." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  know,"  Will  answered  hastily.  "  I  didn't 
mean  that,  of  course.  You're  mine,  mine,  mine!  Sooner 
or  later,  now,  you  must  certainly  come  to  me.  But  for  the 
present,  darling,  I  mean,  it's  so  unwise,  so  foolish.  It'll 
prejudice  your  case,  if  it  ever  comes  to  be  heard  of.  We 
must  take  you  somewhere  else — somewhere  free  from  all 
blame,  don't  you  see — for  the  immediate  future." 

"  Prejudice  my  case!  "Linnet  exclaimed,  looking  up  at 
him  in  amazement,  and  growing  more  shamefaced  still 
with  awe  at  her  own  boldness.  "  You  must  take  me  some- 
where else!  Ah.  Will,  I  don't  understand  you.  No,  no; 
I  must  stop  here — I  must  stop  here  with  you  for  ever. 
I've  broken  away  from  him  now ;  I've  broken  away  from 
everything.  I  can  never,  never  go  back.  I'm  yours,  and 
yours  only." 

"  No ;  you  can  never  go  back.  Linnet,"  Will  answered 
decisively.  "  You're  mine,  darling,  mine,  mine,  mine 
only  " ;  and  he  kissed  her  again  fervently.  "  But  we  must 
be  prudent,  of  course,  if  we're  to  make  this  thing  straight 
before  the  eyes  of  the  world ;  and  for  your  sake,  dearest, 
you  must  see  yourself  how  absolutely  necessary  it  is  that 
we  should  make  it  so." 

Linnet  gazed  at  him  once  more  m  childlike  astonish- 
ment. She  failed  utterly  to  comprehend  him.  "What 
do  you  mean,  Will?"  she  faltered  out.  "You  don't 
mean  to  say  I'm  not  to  stop  with  you? " 

Her  eyes  filled  fast  with  tears,  and  her  face  looked  up 
at  his,  full  of  wistful  pleading.  She  clung  to  him  so 
tight,  in  her  love  and  her  terrof,  that  Will  bent  over  her 


mmm 


M 


3«o 


LINNET 


yet  again  and  covered  her  with  kisses.  "Yes,  darling; 
you're  to  stop  with  me,"  he  cried ;  "  to  stop  with  me  all 
your  life — but  not  just  at  present.  We  must  make  this  thing 
straight  in  the  regular  way  first.  Meanwhile,  you  must 
stay  with  some  friend — some  lady  whose  name  is  above 
suspicion.  All  must  be  carefully  arranged.  Even  to  have 
come  here  to-night  may  be  positively  fatal.  We  must 
play  our  cards  cautiously.    You've  kept  the  letter?  " 

Linnet  drew  it,  much  crumpled,  from  the  folds  of  her 
bosom,  and  handed  it  to  him  at  once,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  What  he  meant,  she  couldn't  imagine.  Will 
ran  his  eye  over  it  hastily.  Then  he  glanced  at  the  deep 
red  marks  on  her  neck,  and  her  half-bared  arm — for  slie 
had  rolled  back  her  sleeve  like  a  child  to  show  him. 
"  This  is  conclusive,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Prudent  man  as 
he  is,  he  has  cut  his  own  throat.  And  you  had  a  witness, 
too — a  friendly  witness ;  that's  lucky.  We  must  take  you 
to  a  doctor,  and  let  him  see  you  to-night,  as  soon  as  ever 
we've  arranged  where  you  can  sleep  this  evening.  Tlie 
evidence  of  cruelty — and  of  the  other  thing — is  more  than 
sufficient.  No  court  in  England  would  refuse  you  a  di- 
vorce upon  such  conduct." 

Linnet  started  at  the  word.  "  Divorce !  "  she  cried, 
growing  redder  and  still  redder  with  shame.  "  Oh,  Will, 
not  that,  not  that!  You  don't  understand  me.  Divorce 
would  be  no  use  in  the  world  to  me,  I'm  a  Catholic,  you 
must  remember,  and  I  could  never,  never  marry  you.  If 
I  did,  it  would  only  be  a  mocker}'^  and  a  snare.  It  would 
be  worse  than  sin;  it  would  be  open  rebellion.  I  want 
no  divorce;  I  want  only  to  be  allowed  to  stop  here  with 
you  for  ever." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  as  if  to  draw  him  to  her- 
self in  some  natural  symbolism.  Her  face  was  fluslicd 
with  her  womanly  modesty.  She  hid  it  once  more  like  a 
shy  child  on  his  shoulder.  Will  looked  at  her,  sore  puz- 
zled. How  strange  that  this  pure  and  passionate  nature 
should  see  things  in  a  light  that  to  him  was  so  unfamiliar! 
But  he  remembered  what  she  had  said  to  him  in  Philip- 
pina's  trouble,  and  began  to  understand  now  in  what 
manner  she  regarded  it. 

"  Well,  but,  Linnet,"  he  cried  eagerly  lifting  her  head 
from  where  she  put  it,  and  laying  her  cheek  against  his 


GOD'S  LAW— OR  MAN'S  ? 


321 


own,  "  you  must  see  for  yourself  how  much  better  it 
would  be,  if  only  from  the  mere  worldly  point  of  view, 
to  arrange  this  matter  as  the  world  would  arrange  it. 
Granting  even  that  a  marriage  after  an  English  divorce 
would  mean  to  you,  from  the  strictly  religious  standpoint, 
simply  nothing — why,  surely,  even  then,  it  must  be  no 
small  matter  to  set  oneself  right  with  the  world,  to  be 
received  and  acknowledged  as  an  honest  woman,  and  my 
wife,  in  ordinary  English  society.  If  we  get  a  divorce, 
we  can  do  all  that;  and  to  get  a  divorce,  we  must  act 
now  circumspectly.  But  if  we  don't  get  one,  and  if  you 
try  to  stop  here  with  me  without  it — remember,  dear,  the 
penalty ;  you  lose  position  at  once,  and  become  for  society 
an  utter  outcast." 

Linnet  flung  herself  upon  him  once  more  in  a  perfect 
fervor  of  abandonment.  Her  love  and  her  shame  were 
fighting  hard  within  her.  Her  passionate  Southern  nature 
overcame  her  entirely.  "  Will,  Will,  dear  Will,"  she 
cried,  hiding  her  face  from  him  yet  again,  "  you  don't 
understand;  you  can't  fathom  the  depth  of  the  sacrifice  I 
would  make  for  you.  I  come  to  you  to-day  bringing  my 
life  in  my  hand — my  eternal  life,  my  soul,  my  future;  I 
offer  you  all  1  have,  all  I  am,  all  I  will  be.  For  you  I 
give  up  my  good  name,  my  faith,  my  hopes  of  salvation. 
For  you  I  will  endure  the  worst  tortures  of  purgatory. 
Fve  tried  to  keep  away — Fve  tried  hard  to  keep  away — 
Our  Dear  Lady  knows  how  hard — all  these  months,  all 
these  years — but  I  can  keep  away  no  longer.  Two  great 
powers  seemed  to  pull  different  ways  within  me.  My 
Church  said  to  me  plainly,  *  You  must  never  think  of 
him ;  you  must  stop  with  Andreas.'  My  heart  said  to  me 
no  less  plainly,  but  a  thousand  times  more  persuasively, 
'  You  must  fly  from  that  man's  side ;  you  must  go  to  Will 
Deverill.'  I  knew,  if  I  followed  my  heart,  the  fires  of 
hell  would  rise  up  and  take  hold  of  me.  I  haven't  minded 
for  that ;  Fve  dared  the  fires  of  hell,  the  two  have  fought 
it  out — the  Church  and  my  heart — and,  my  heart  has  con- 
quered." 

She  paused,  and  drew  a  great  sigh.  "  Dear  Will,"  she 
went  on  softly,  burying;  her  head  yet  deeper  in  that  tender 
bosom,  "  if  I  got  a  divorce,  the  divorce  would  be  nothing 
to  me — a  mere  waste  paper.    What  people  think  of  me 


mf 


322 


LINNET 


^K 


matters  little,  very  little  in  my  mind,  compared  to  what 
God  and  my  Church  will  say  of  me.  If  1  stop  with  you 
here,  I  shall  be  living  in  open  sin;  but  I  shall  be  living 
with  the  man  my  heart  loves  best ;  I  shall  have  at  least  my 
own  heart's  unmixed  approval.  While  I  lived  with  An- 
dreas, the  Church  and  God  approved;  but  my  own  heart 
told  me,  every  night  of  my  life,  I  was  living  in  sin,  un- 
speakable sin  against  human  nature  and  my  own  body. 
Oh,  Will,  I  don't  know  why,  but  it  somehow  seems  as  if 
God  and  our  hearts  were  at  open  war;  you  must  live  by 
one  or  you  must  live  by  the  other.  If  I  stop  with  you, 
I'm  living  by  my  own  heart's  law;  I  will  take  the  sin 
upon  me ;  I  will  pay  the  penalty.  If  God  punishes  me  for 
it  at  last — well,  I  will  take  my  punishment  and  bear  it 
bravely ;  I  won't  flinch  from  pain ;  I  won't  shrink  from  tlie 
fires  of  hell  or  purgatory.  But,  at  least,  1  do  it  all  with 
my  eyes  wide  open.  I  know  I'm  disobeying  God's  law 
for  the  law  of  my  own  heart.  I  won't  profane  God's  holy 
sacrament  of  marriage  by  asking  a  heretical  and  un- 
Catholic  Church  to  bless  a  union  which  is  all  my  own— 
my  own  heart's  making,  not  God's  ordinance,  God's  sac- 
rament. 1  love  you  so  well,  darling,  I  can  never  leave  you. 
Let  me  stop  with  you.  Will;  let  me  stop  with  you!  Let 
me  live  with  you ;  let  me  die  with  you ;  let  me  burn  in  hell- 
fire  for  you ! " 

A  man  is  a  man.  And  the  man  within  Will  Deverill 
drove  him  on  irresistibly.  He  clasped  her  hard  once  more 
to  his  straining  bosom.  "  As  you  wish,"  he  said,  quiver- 
ing.   "  Your  will  is  law,  Linnet." 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried,  nestling  against  him,  with  a  satis- 
fied sigh  of  delight.  "  My  law  is  Will."  And  she  looked 
up  and  smiled  at  her  own  little  conceit.  "  You  shall  do 
as  you  wish  with  me." 


{"'"■i'P'-'i' 

Ullii 


red  to  what 
)p  with  you 
ill  be  living 
:  at  least  my 
:d  with  An- 
^  own  heart 
;  in  sin,  un- 

own  body. 

seems  as  if 
nust  live  by 
•p  with  you, 
take  the  sin 
ishes  me  for 
and  bear  it 
ink  from  the 
o  it  all  with 
^  God's  law 
e  God's  holy 
:al  and  un- 
il  my  own— 
i,  God's  sac- 
er  leave  you. 
h  you!  Let 
burn  in  hell- 

Vill  Deverill 
once  more 
said,  quiver- 

with  a  satis- 
d  she  looked 
fou  shall  do 


CHAPTER  XLII 


PRUDENCE 


It  was  a  trying  positio*^  for  Will.  He  hardly  knew  what 
to  do.  Duty  and  love  pulled  him  one  way,  chivalry  and  the 
hot  blood  of  youth  the  other.  When  a  beautiful  woman 
makes  one  an  offer  like  that,  it  would  be  scarcely  human, 
scarcely  virile  to  resist  it.  And  Will  was  not  only  a  man 
but  also  a  poet — for  a  poet  is  a  man  with  whom  moods 
and  impulses  are  stronger  than  with  most  of  us.  As  poet, 
he  cared  little  for  mere  conventional  rules;  it  was  the 
consequences  to  Linnet  herself  he  had  most  to  think 
about.  But  he  saw  it  was  no  use  talking  to  her  from  the 
standpoint  he  would  have  adopted  with  most  ordinary 
Englishwomen.  It  was  no  use  pointing  out  to  her  what  he 
himself  realized  most  distinctly,  that  her  union  with  An- 
dreas was  in  its  very  essence  an  unholy  one,  an  insult  to 
her  own  body,  a  treason  against  all  that  was  truest  and 
best  in  her  being.  It  ran  counter  from  the  very  first  to  the 
dictates  of  her  own  heart,  which  are  the  voice  of  Nature 
and  of  God  within  us.  But  to  Linnet,  those  plain  truths 
would  have  seemed  but  the  veriest  human  sophisms.  She 
looked  upon  her  marriage  with  Andreas  as  a  holy  sacra- 
ment of  the  Church ;  and  any  attempt  to  set  aside  that  sac- 
rament by  an  earthly  court,  and  to  substitute  for  it  a  verbal 
marriage  that  was  no  marriage  at  all  to  her,  but  a  pro- 
found mockery,  would  have  seemed  to  her  soul  ten  thou- 
sand times  worse  than  avowed  desertion  and  unconcealed 
wickedness.  Better  live  in  open  sin,  she  thought,  though 
she  paid  for  it  with  her  body,  than  insult  her  God  by 
pretending  to  invoke  his  aid  and  blessing  on  an  adulterous 
union. 

Will  argued  feebly  with  her  for  a  while,  but  it  was  all 
to  no  purpose.  The  teachings  of  her  youth  had  too  firm 
a  hold  upon  her.  He  saw  she  was  quite  fixed  in  her  own 
mind  upon  one  thing;  she  might  stop  with  him  or  she 

323 


^T^P 


^^m 


ZH 


LINNET 


■^!!l!i!!! 


Ill   I'll 

HI  i<ilWliiiiill  I 


might  go  back,  but  she  was  Andreas  Hausberger's  wife 
by  the  Church's  act,  and  no  earthly  power  could  make 
anything  else  of  her.  So  Will  gave  up  the  attempt  to 
convince  her,  as  all  in  vain,  at  least  for  the  present.  He 
saw  what  he  had  to  do  first  was  to  provide  at  once  for  the 
immediate  future.  Linnet  couldn't  remain  in  his  rooms 
alone  with  him  that  night;  to  him,  at  least,  so  much  was 
certain.  For  her  own  dear  sake,  he  must  save  her  from 
herself;  he  must  throw  at  least  some  decent  veil  for  the 
moment  over  the  relations  between  them. 

For  Linnet  herself,  long  before  this,  the  die  was  cast. 
She  felt  she  had  already  deserted  her  husband ;  she  had 
sinned  in  her  heart  the  unspeakable  sin ;  all  the  rest  was  in 
her  eyes  mere  detail  and  convention.  But  she  realized 
gratefully  none  the  less  Will's  goodness  and  kindness  to 
her.  "  You  are  better  to  me  far  than  I've  been  to  myself," 
she  cried,  clinging  hard  to  him  still ;  "  I've  wrecked  my 
own  soul,  and  you  would  try  to  save  my  poor  earthly 
body."  And  yet,  in  the  mere  intoxication  of  being  near 
him  and  touching  him,  she  more  than  half-forgot  all  else 
on  earth,  her  warm  Southern  nature  rejoiced  in  the  light 
of  her  poet's  presence.  She  cared  for  nothing  now;  she 
thought  of  nothing,  feared  nothing ;  with  Will  by  her  side. 
she  would  gladly  give  her  soul  to  burn  for  ever  in  nether- 
most hell,  for  the  sake  of  those  precious,  those  floeting 
moments. 

"  I  must  find  some  place  for  you  to  spend  the  night  in. 
Linnet,"  Will  said  at  last  seriously.  "  Even  if  it  were 
only  to  save  scandal  for  the  immediate  future,  I  should 
have  to  do  that;  by  to-morrow,  all  the  world  in  London 
would  be  talking  of  it.  But  I  hope,  after  a  while,  when 
I've  reasoned  this  thing  out  with  you,  you  may  see  it  all 
differently — you  may  come  round  to  my  point  of  view; 
and  then,  you'll  be  glad  I  arranged  things  now  so  as  to 
leave  the  last  loophole  of  divorce  and  re-marriage  still  open 
before  you." 

Linnet  shook  her  head  firmly.  "I'm  a  Catholic,"  she 
said,  with  a  sigh,  "  and  to  me,  dear  Will,  religion  means 
simply  the  Catholic  faith  and  the  Catholic  practice.  If  I 
gave  up  that,  I  should  give  up  everything.  Either  mar- 
riage is  a  sacrament,  or  it's  nothing  at  all.    It's  to  the 


PRUDENCE 


325 


sacrament  alone  that  I  attach  importance.  But  if  you 
wish  me  to  go,  I'll  go  anywhere  you  take  mc ;  though,  if  I 
obeyed  my  own  heart,  I'd  never  move  away  from  your 
dear  side  again,  my  darling,  my  darling !  " 

She  clung  to  him  with  passionate  force.  Will  felt  it 
was  hard  to  drive  her  from  him  against  her  will — how 
hard,  perhaps,  no  woman  could  ever  tell ;  for  with  women, 
the  aggressiveness  of  love  is  a  thing  unknown ;  but  for 
the  love's  sake  he  bore  her,  he  kept  down  his  longing  for 
lier.  "Have  you  brought  any  luggage  with  you?"  he 
asked  at  last,  drawing  himself  suddenly  back,  and  de- 
scending all  at  once  to  the  level  of  the  practical. 

"  A  little  portmanteau,  and — all  I  need  for  the  night," 
Linnet  answered  with  a  deep  blush,  still  clinging  hard  to 
him.    "  My  maid's  in  the  passage." 

"But  how  about  the  theater  this  evening?"  Will  in- 
quired with  a  little  start.  "  You  know,  this  was  to  have 
been  your  first  appearance  this  season." 

Linnet  opened  her  palms  outward  with  a  speaking  ges- 
ture. "  The  theater !  "  she  cried,  half-scornf ully.  "  What 
do  I  care  for  the  theater?  Now  I've  come  to  you,  Will, 
what  do  I  care  for  anything?  If  I  had  my  own  way,  I'd 
stop  here  with  yoti  for  ever  and  ever.  The  theater — 
well,  the  theater  might  do  as  best  it  couki  without  me !  " 

Will  paused,  and  reflected.  He  saw  he  must  absolutely 
take  measures  to  protect  this  hot  passionate  creature 
against  the  soc'al  consequences  of  her  own  hot  passion. 
"  You've  got  an  understudy,  I  suppose,"  he  said ;  "  some- 
one who  could  fill  the  part  pretty  decently  in  your  en- 
forced absence?  They  don't  depend  altogether  upon  you, 
I  hope,  for  to-night's  performance. 

"  Yes ;  I've  got  an  understudy,*'  Linnet  answered,  in 
a  very  careless  voice,  clasping  his  hand  tight  in  hers, 
and  gripping  it  hard  now  and  again,  as  though  under- 
studies were  a  matter  of  the  supremest  indifference  to  her. 
"  She  doesn't  know  her  part  very  well,  and  I'm  the  soul 
of  the  piece ;  but  I  daresay  they  could  get  along  with  her 
very  tolerably  enough  somehow.  Besides,"  she  added,  in  a 
little  afterthought,  looking  down  at  her  wounded  arm, 
"  after  what  Andreas  has  done  to  me,  I'm  too  ill  and  too 
shaken  to  appear  to-night,  whatever  might  have  happened. 


mmm 


326 


LINNET 


Even  if  I'd  stopped  at  home,  instead  of  coming  here,  I 
couldn't  possibly  have  undertaken  to  sing  in  public  this 
evening." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  Will  replied,  making  up  his  mind 
at  once.  "  We  must  act  accordingly.  If  that's  the  case, 
the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  go  out  and  telegraph  to  the 
management,  without  delay,  that  Signora  Casalmonte 
is  seriously  indisposed,  and  won't  be  able  to  appear  in 
Carmen  this  evening." 

"  To  go  out ! "  Linnet  cried,  clutching  his  arm  in  dis- 
may. "  Oh,  dear  Will,  don't  do  th?t !  Don't  leave  me  for 
a  moment.  Suppose  Andreas  were  to  come,  and  to  find 
me  here  alone?  What  on  earth  could  I  do?  What  on 
earth  could  I  say  to  him  ?  " 

Will  stroked  her  cheek  once  more,  that  beautiful  soft 
cheek  that  he  loved  so  dearly,  as  he  answered  in  a  grave 
and  very  serious  tone,  "  Now,  Linnet,  you  must  be  brave ; 
and,  above  all,  you  must  be  practical.  This  is  a  crisis  in 
our  lives.  A  great  deal  depends  upon  it.  If  you  love  me, 
you  must  do  as  I  advise  you  in  this  emergency.  You  have 
done  quite  right  to  come  away  from  Andreas — instantly, 
the  very  moment  you  discovered  this  letter — the  very  mo- 
ment he  offered  you  such  unmanly  violence.  In  that, 
you  were  true  woman.  You're  in  the  right  now,  and  if 
you  behave  circumspectly,  all  the  world  will  admit  it; 
all  the  world  will  say  so.  But  you  mustn't  stop  here  one 
second  longer  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  You  must 
spend  the  night  with  some  friend  whom  we  know,  some 
lady  of  position  and  unblemished  reputation ;  and  the 
world  must  think  you  went  straight  from  your  husband's 
roof  to  hers,  when  all  these  things  happened." 

Linnet  drew  back,  all  aghast.  "  What,  go  from  you ! " 
she  cried :  "  this  first  night  of  our  love.  O  Will,  dear 
Will !    Go,  go  right  away  from  you !  " 

"  Yes,"  Will  answered  firmly.  "  For  the  moment,  the 
one  thing  needful  is  to  find  such  a  shelter  for  you.  If 
you  took  refuge  in  a  hotel  or  private  lodging  to-night, 
people  would  whisper  and  hint — you  know  what  they 
would  hint;  we  must  stop  their  hateful  whisperings! 
Now,  darling,  you  mustn't  say  no;  you  must  act  as  I  ad- 
vise. I'm  going  out  at  once  to  find  that  lady.  I  shall  ask 
my  sister  first — she's  a  clergyman's  wife,  and  nothing 


PRUDENCE 


327 


ng  here,  I 
public  this 

>  his  mind 
s  the  case, 
•aph  to  the 
"asalmonte 
appear 


in 


irm  in  dis- 

ave  me  for 

md  to  find 

What  on 

lutiful  soft 
in  a  grave 
t  be  brave ; 
.  a  crisis  in 
DU  love  me, 

You  have 
— instantly, 
e  very  mo- 
In  that, 
low,  and  if 
I  admit  it; 
)p  here  one 

You  must 
mow,  some 
and   the 

husband's 

rom  you ! " 
Will,  dear 

loment,  the 
3r  you.  If 
ig  to-night, 

what  they 
whisperings! 
ict  as  I  ad- 

I  shall  ask 
nd  nothing 


looks  so  well  as  a  clergyman's  wife  in  England.  But 
if  she  objects,  I  must  try  some  other  woman.  You're 
agitated  to-night,  and  I  should  be  doing  you  a  gross 
wrong  if  1  took  advantage  now  of  your  love  and  your  agi- 
tation. Though  it  isn't  you  and  myself  I'm  thinking  of  at 
all;  you  and  I  know,  you  and  I  understand  one  another. 
Let  me  not  to  the  mar-hge  of  true  minds  admit  impedi- 
ment; it  isn't  that  that  I  trouble  for — it's  the  hateful 
prying  eyes  and  lying  tongues  of  other  people.  For  my- 
self, darling,  my  creed  is  quite  other  than  your  priest's; 
I  hold  that,  here  to-night,  you  are  mine,  and  I  am  yours ; 
God  and  Nature  have  joined  us,  by  the  witness  of  our 
own  hearts  " ;  his  voice  sank  solemnly,  "  and  whom  God 
hath  joined  together,"  he  added,  in  a  very  grave  tongue, 
*'  let  no  man  put  asunder."  He  paused  and  hesitated. 
"  But,  for  to-night,"  he  went  on,  *'  we  must  make  some 
temporary  arrangement;  to-morrow  and  afterwards,  we 
may  settle  for  the  future  with  one  another  at  our  leisure. 
When  you  look  at  it  more  calmly,  dearest,  you  may  change 
your  mind  about  the  matter  of  the  divorce;  till  then,  we 
must  be  cautious,  and,  in  any  case,  we  must  take  care  to 
give  the  wicked  world  no  handle  against  you." 

Linnet  clutched  him  tight  still.  "  But  if  you  go,"  she 
cried,  all  eagerness,  "  you  won't  leave  me ;  I  may  go  with 
you." 

Her  voice  was  so  pleading,  it  cut  Will  to  the  quick  to 
be  obliged  to  refuse  her.  He  leant  over  her  tenderly. 
"  My  Linnet,"  he  cried,  caressing  her  with  one  strong 
hand  as  he  spoke,  "  I'd  give  worlds  to  be  able  to  say  yes; 
I  can't  bear  to  say  no  to  you.  But  for  your  own  dear 
sake,  once  more,  I  must,  I  must.  I  can't  possibly  let  you 
go  with  me.  Just  consider  this ;  how  foolish  it  would  be 
for  me  to  let  you  be  seen  with  me.  to-night,  on  foot  or  in 
a  cab,  in  the  streets  of  London.  All  the  world  would  say 
— with  truth — you'd  run  away  from  your  husband,  and 
rushed  straight'  into  the  arms  of  your  lover.  You  and  I 
know  you've  done  perfectly  right  in  that.  But  the  world 
—the  world  would  never  know  it.  We  must  never  let 
them  have  the  chance  of  saying  what,  after  their  kind, 
we  feel  sure  they  would  say  about  it." 

He  rose  from  his  cha^'r.  She  clung  to  him,  passionately. 
"  Oh,  take  me  with  you,  Will ! "  she  cried,  in  a  perfect 


328 


LINNET 


fever  of  love.  "  Suppose  Andreas  was  to  come !  Sup- 
pose he  was  to  try  and  carry  me  off  by  force  against  my 
will !  Oh,  take  me,  take  me  with  you ! — don't  leave  nic 
here,  alone,  to  Andreas !  " 

Sadly  against  his  wish,  Will  disengaged  her  arms  and 
untwined  her  fingers.  He  did  it  very  tenderly  but  with 
perfect  firmness.  "  No,  darling,"  he  said,  in  a  quiet  tone 
of  command ;  "  let  go !  I  must  leave  you  here  alone ;  it's 
imperative.  And  it's  wisest  so;  it's  right;  it's  the  best 
thing  to  do  for  you.  You  are  mine  in  future — you  were 
always  mine — and  we  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  love 
one  another  as  we  will,  hereafter.  But  to-niglit  I  must 
see  you  suffer  no  harm  by  this  first  false  step  of  yours. 
My  servant  knows  your  husband  well.  He  shall  wait  in 
the  hall ;  and,  if  Andreas  comes,  deny  us  both  to  him. 
Your  maid  can  come  up  here  with  you.  I'll  take  care  no 
evil  happens  to  you  in  any  way  in  my  absence.  Trust 
me,  trust  me  for  this,  Linnet;  you  needn't  be  afraid  of 
me. 

\/ith  a  sudden  change  of  front  Linnet  held  up  her 
face  to  him.  "  1  can  always  tru'  lu,  dear  Will,"  she 
cried.  "  I  have  always  trusted  you.  i\\\  these  long,  long 
years  I've  known  and  seen  how  you  yearned  for  one  kiss 
— and  would  never  take  it.  All  these  long,  long  years,  I've 
known  you  hungered  and  thirsted  for  my  love —  and  kept 
down  your  own  heart,  letting  only  your  eyes  tell  me  a 
little — a  very  little — while  your  lips  kept  silence.  The 
other  men  asked  me  many  things,  and  asked  me  often — 
you  know  a  singer's  life,  what  it  is,  and  what  rich  people 
think  of  us,  that  they  have  but  to  offer  us  gold,  and  we 
will  yield  them  anything.  I  never  gave  to  one  of  them 
what  I  was  keeping  for  you,  my  darling ;  I  said  to  myself, 
*  I  am  Andreas's  by  the  sacrament  of  the  Church ;  but 
Will's,  Will's,  Will's,  by  my  own  heart,  and  by  the  law  of 
my  nature!'  I  trusted  you  then;  I'll  trust  you  always. 
Good-by,  dear  heart;  go  quick:  come  back  again  quick 
to  me ! " 

She  held  the  ripe  red  flower  of  her  lips  pursed  upward 
towards  his  face.  Will  printed  one  hard  kiss  on  that  rich 
full  mouth  of  hers.  Then,  sorely  agamst  his  will,  he  tore 
himself  away,  and,  in  a  tumult  of  warring  impulses,  de- 
gc^nd^d  the  staircase. 


lie 


!     Sup- 
gainst  my 
leave  nie 

arms  and 
'  but  with 
quiet  tone 
alone ;  it's 
s  the  best 
-you  were 
ne  to  love 
[lit  I  must 
I  of  yours, 
all  wait  in 
th  to  him. 
ke  care  no 
ice.  Trust 
;  afraid  of 

2\d  up  her 

Will,"  she 

long,  long 

or  one  kiss 

years,  I've 

—  and  kept 

;  tell  me  a 

2nce.     The 

me  often — 

rich  people 

lid,  and  we 

le  of  them 

to  myself, 
hurch;  but 

the  law  of 
ou  always, 
gain  quick 

jed  upward 
)n  that  rich 
^ill,  he  tore 
ipulses,  de- 


CHAPIER  XLIII 


LINNET  S  RIVAL 


Will  hailed  a  cab  in  St.  James's  Street,  and  drove 
straight  to  his  sister's,  only  pausing  by  the  way  to  des- 
patch a  hasty  telegram  to  the  management  of  the  Har- 
mony:*" Signora  Casalmonte  seriously  indisposed.  Quite 
unable  to  sing  this  evening.  Must  fill  up  her  place  for 
to-night,  at  least,  and  probably  for  to-morrow  as  well, 
by  understudy." 

Then  he  went  on  to  Maud's.  "  Mrs.  Sartoris  at  home?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  but  she's  just  this  minute  gone  up  to  dress 
for  dinner." 

"  Tell  her  I  must  see  her  at  once,"  Will  exclaimed  with 
decision, — "  on  important  business.  Let  her  come  down 
just  as  she  is.  If  she's  not  presentable,  ask  her  to  throw 
a  dressing-gown  roi  iid  her,  or  anything,  to  save  time,  and 
run  down  without  delay,  as  I  must  speak  with  her  imme- 
aiately  on  a  most  pressing  matter." 

The  maid,  smiling  incredulity,  ran  upstairs  with  his  mes- 
sage. Will,  with  heart  on  fire,  much  perturbed  on  Linnet's 
account,  walked  alone  into  the  drawing-room,  to  await  his 
sister's  coming.  He  was  too  anxious  to  sit  st'll ;  he  paced 
up  and  down  the  room,  with  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
eyes  fixed  on  the  carpet.  A  minute  .  .  .  two  minutes 
.  .  .  four,  five,  ten  passed,  and  yet  no  Maud.  It  seemed 
almost  as  if  she  meant  to  keep  him  waiting  on  purpose.  He 
chafed  at  it  inwardly;  at  so  critical  a  juncture,  surely  she 
might  hurry  herself  after  such  an  urgent  message. 

At  last,  Maud  descended — ostentatiously  half-dressed. 
She  wore  an  evening  skirt — very  rich  and  handsome ;  but, 
in  place  of  a  bodice,  she  had  thrown  loosely  around  her  a 
becoming  blue  bedroom  jacket,  trimmed  with  dainty  brown 
facings.  Arthur  Sartoris,  in  full  clerical  evening  costume 
and  spotless  white  tie,  followed  close  behind  her.  Maud 
burst  into  the  room  with  a  stately  sweep  of  implied  re- 
monstrance.   "  This  is  very  inconvenient,  Will,"  she  said 

329 


330 


LINNET 


" 


in  her  chilliest  tone,  holding  up  one  cheek  as  she  spoke  in 
d  frigid  way  of  fraternal  salute,  and  pulling  her  jacket 
together  symbolically — "  very,  very  inconvenient.  We've 
the  Dean  and  his  wife  coming  to  dine,  as  you  know,  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour — and  the  Jenkinses,  and  the  Mac- 
gregors,  and  those  people  from  St.  Christopher's.  For- 
tunately, I  happened  to  go  up  early  to  dress,  and  had  got 
pretty  well  through  with  my  hair  when  year  name  was 
announced,  or  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how  I  could  ever  have 
come  down  to  you.  Oh,  Arthur — you're  ready — run  and 
get  me  the  maiden-hair  and  the  geranium  from  my  room ; 
I  can  be  sticking  them  in  before  the  glass,  while  Will's 
calking  to  me  about  this  sudden  and  mysterious  business  of 
his.  They're  in  the  tumbler  on  the  wash-hand-stand,  be- 
hind the  little  red  pot;  and — wait  a  moment — of  course 
I  shall  want  some  hair-pins — the  thin  twisted  American 
ones.  You  know  where  I  keep  them — in  the  silver-topped 
box.  Go  quick,  there's  a  dear.  Well,  Will,  what  do  you 
want  me  for? " 

This  was  a  discouraging  reception,  to  be  sure,  and  boded 
small  good  for  his  important  errand.  Will  knew  well  on  a 
dinner  night  the  single  emotion  of  a  British  matron! 
Church,  crown,  and  constitution  might  fall  apart  piecemeal 
before  Maud  Sartoris's  eyes,  and  she  would  take  no  notice 
of  them.  Still  at  least  he  must  try,  for  Linnet's  sake  he 
must  try ;  and  he  began  accordingly.  In  as  brief  words  as 
he  could  find,  he  explained  hastily  to  Maud  the  nature  and 
gravity  of  the  existing  situation.  Signora  Casalmonte, 
that  beautiful,  graceful  singer  who  had  made  the  success 
of  Cophetua's  Adventure — Signora  Casalmonte  (he  never 
spoke  of  her  as  "  Linnet "  to  Maud,  of  course.)  had  lonp^ 
suflFered  terribly  at  the  hands  of  her  husband,  whose  physi- 
cal cruelty,  not  to  mention  other  thina^s,  had  driven  her 
to-day  to  leave  his  house  hurriedly,  without  hope  of  return 
again.  Flying  in  haste  from  his  violence,  and  not  knowinj^ 
where  to  look  for  aid  in  her  trouble,  she  had  taken  refuge 
for  the  moment — Will  eyed  his  sister  close — it  was  an 
error  of  judgment — no  more — at  his  rooms  in  St.  James's. 
"  You  recollect,"  he  said  apologetically,  "  we  were  very  old 
friends ;  I  had  known  her  in  the  Tyrol,  and  had  so  much 
to  do  with  her  while  she  was  singing  in  my  opera." 

Maud  nodded  assent.,  and  went  on  unconcerned,  with  a 


LINNET'S  RIVAL 


331 


spoke  in 
ler  jacket 
;.  We've 
now,  in  a 
the  Mac- 
r's.  For- 
d  had  got 
lame  was 
ever  have 
—run  and 
my  room ; 
lile  Will's 
usiness  of 
stand,  be- 
-of  course 
American 
^er-topped 
lat  do  you 

and  boded 
J  well  on  a 

matron ! 
piecemeal 

no  notice 

s  sake  he 

f  words  as 

nature  and 

asalmonte, 

le  success 

(he  never 

had  long 
lose  physi- 
Iriven  her 

of  return 

»t  knowinjT 

<en  refuge 

it  was  ail 

t.  James's. 

re  very  old 

d  so  much 
»> 

ed,  with  a 


quiet  smile  on  her  calm  face,  arranging  the  geranium  and 
maiden-hair  in  a  neat  little  spray  at  one  side  of  her  much 
frizzed  locks,  with  the  profoundest  attention. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said  inquiringly  at  iast,  as  Will,  flounder- 
ing on,  paused  for  a  moment  and  glanced  at  her.  "  So  the 
lady  with  many  names — Casalmonte,  Hausberger,  Linnet, 
Carlotta,  and  so  forth — is  this  moment  at  your  rooms,  and 
I  suppose  is  going  to  sup  there.  A  queer  proceeding,  isn't 
it?  It's  no  business  of  mine,  of  course,  but  I  certainly 
must  say  I  should  have  thought  your  own  sister  was  the 
last  person  in  the  world  even  you  would  dream  of  coming 
to  tell  about  this  nice  little  escapade  of  yours." 

"  Maud,"  Will  said,  very  seriously,  "  let's  be  grave ; 
this  is  no  laughing  matter."  Then,  in  brief  words  once 
more,  he  went  on  to  explain  the  difficulty  he  felt  as  to 
Linnet's  arrangements  for  the  immediate  future.  He  said 
nothing  about  the  divorce,  of  course;  nothing  about  his 
love  and  devotion  towards  Linnet.  Those  chords  could 
have  struck  no  answering  string  in  the  British  matron's 
severely  proper  nature.  He  merely  pointed  out  that  Lin- 
net was  a  friend  in  distress,  whose  good  name  he  wished 
to  save  against  unjust  aspersions.  Having  left  her  hus- 
band she  ought  to  go  somewhere  to  a  responsible  married 
woman — **  And  I've  come  to  ask  you,  Maud,"  he  con- 
cluded, "  as  an  act  of  Christian  charity  to  a  sister  in  dis- 
tress, will  you  '.;ake  her  in,  for  to-night  at  least,  till  I  can 
see  with  greater  clearness  what  to  do  with  her  in  future  ?  " 

Maud  stared  at  him  in  blank  terror.  "  My  dear  boy," 
she  cried,  "  are  you  mad  ?  What  a  proposal  to  make  to 
me!  How  on  earth  can  >ou  ever  think  I  could  possibly 
do  it  r  " 

"  And  it  would  be  such  a  splendid  chance,  too,"  Will 
cried,  carried  away  by  his  enthusiasm — "  the  Dean  coming 
to  dinner  and  all !  in  a  clergyman's  house,  with  such  people 
to  vouch  for  her!  Why,  with  backers  like  that,  scandal 
itself  couldn't  venture  to  wag  its  vile  tongue  at  her ! " 

Maud  looked  at  him  with  a  faint  quiver  in  her  clear-cut 
nostrils.  "  That's  just  it !  "  she  answered  promptly.  "  But 
there,  Will,  you're  a  heathen !  You'll  never  understand  1 
You  have  quite  a  congenial  incapacity  for  appreciating 
and  entering  into  the  clerical  situation.  Isn't  that  so,  dear 
Arthur?     You  belong  to  another  world — the  theatrical 


^^T 


^-^ 


332 


LINNET 


15^ 


world — where  morals  and  religion  are  all  topsy-turvy, 
anyhow !  How  could  you  suppose  for  a  moment  a  clergy- 
man's wife  could  receive  into  her  house,  on  such  a  night  as 
this,  an  opera-singing  woman  with  three  aliases  to  her 
name,  who's  just  run  away  in  a  fit  of  pique  from  her  lawful 
husband!  Whether  she's  right  or  wrong,  she's  not  a 
person  one  could  associate  with !  To  mix  oneself  up  like 
that  with  a  playhouse  scandal!  and  the  Dean  coming  to 
dine,  whose  influence  for  a  canonry's  so  important  to  us 
all!  The  dear,  good  Dean!  Now  Arthur,  isn't  Will  just 
too  ridiculous  for  anything?  " 

"  It  certainly  would  seem  extremely  inconsistent,"  Ar- 
thur Sartoris  replied,  fingering  that  clerical  face  dubiously ; 
"  ex — tremely  inconsistent."  But  he  added  after  a  pause, 
with  a  professional  afterthought.  "  Though,  of  course, 
Maud,  if  she's  leaving  him  on  sufficient  grounds — com- 
pelled to  it,  in  fact,  not  through  any  fault  of  her  own,  but 
through  the  man's  misconduct — and  if  she  thinks  it  would 
be  wrong  to  put  up  with  him  any  longer,  yet  feels  anxious 
to  avoid  all  appearance  of  evil,  why,  naturally,  as  Chris- 
tians, we  sympathize  with  her  most  deeply.  But  as  to 
taking  her  into  our  house — now  really.  Will,  you  must 
see — I  put  it  to  you  personally — would  you  do  it  yourself 
if  you  were  in  our  position  ?  " 

Maud  for  her  part,  being  a  woman,  was  more  frankly 
worldly.  "  And  it'd  get  into  the  papers,  too !  "  she  cried 
"  Labby'd  put  it  in  the  papers.  .  .  .  Just  imagine  it  in 
Truth,  Arthur! — '  I'm  also  told,  on  very  good  authority, 
that  the  erring  soul,  having  drifted  from  her  anchorage, 
went  straight  from  her  husband's  house  to  Mrs.  Arthur 
Sartoris's.  Now,  Mrs.  Arthur  Sartoris,  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  inform  the  innocent  reader,  is  Mr.  Deverill's  sister; 
and  Mr.  Deverill  is  the  well-known  author  and  composer 
of  Cophcttia's  Adventure, — in  which  capacity  he  must 
doutbless  have  enjoyed,  for  many  months,  abundant  op- 
portunities for  making  the  best  of  the  Signora's  society. 
Verbum  sap. — but  I  would  advise  the  Reverend  Arthur 
to  remember  in  future  the  Apostle's  injunctions  on  the  duty 
of  ruling  his  own  house  well,  and  having  his  children  in 
subjection  with  all  gravity.'  That's  just  about  what  Labby 
would  sav  of  it !  " 

Will's  face  burned  bright  red,    If  his  own  sister  spoke 


Mi:>'.'  'Sviar 


LINNET'S  RIVAL 


333 


thus,  what  things  could  he  expect  the  outer  world  to  say 
of  his  stainless  Linnet.  "  You  forget,"  he  said,  a  little 
angrily,  "  the  Apostle  advises,  too,  in  the  self-same  pas- 
sage, that  a  bishop  should  be  given  to  hospitality ;  and  that 
his  wife  should  be  grave ;  not  a  slanderer ;  sober  and  faith- 
ful in  all  things.  I  came  to  you  to-night  hoping  you  would 
extend  that  hospitality  to  an  injured  wife  who  desires  to, 
take  refuge  blamelessly  from  an  unworthy  husband.  If 
you  refuse  her  such  aid,  you  are  helping  in  so  far  to  drive 
her  into  evil  courses.  I  asked  you  as  my  sister;  I'm  sorry 
you've  refused  me." 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,"  Maud  began,  "  you  must  see  for 
yourself  that  for  a  clergyman's  wife  to  have  her  name 
mixed  up — oh,  good  gracious,  there's  the  bell !  They're 
coming,  Will,  I'm  sure.  I  must  rush  up  this  very  moment, 
and  put  on  my  bodice  at  once.  Thank  goodness,  Arthur, 
you're  dressed,  or  what  ever  should  I  do?  Stop  down  here 
and  receive  them." 

"  Then  you  absolutely  refuse  ?  "  W  ill  cried,  as  she  fled, 
scuffling,  woman-wise,  to  the  door. 

"  I  absolutely  refuse !  "  Maud  answered  from  the  land- 
ing. "  I'm  surprised  that  you  should  even  dream  of  asking 
your  sister  to  take  into  her  house,  under  circumstances  like 
these,  a  runaway  actress-woman !  "  And,  with  a  glance 
towards  the  hall,  she  scurried  hastily  upstairs,  with  the 
shuffling  gait  of  a  woman  surprised,  to  her  own  bedroom. 

Mechanically,  Will  shook  hands  with  that  irreproachable 
Arthur  Sartoris,  passed  the  Dean,  all  wrinkled  smiles,  in 
the  vestibule  below,  and  returned  again  with  a  hot  heart 
to  his  waiting  hansom.  "  Hans  Place,  Chelsea !  "  he  cried 
through  the  flap;  and  the  cabman  drove  him  straight  to 
Rue's  miniature  palace. 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  at  home ;  yes,  sir ;  but  she  was  dressing 
for  dinner.  "  Say  I  must  see  her  at  once !  "  Will  cried  with 
a  burst.  And  in  less  than  half-a-minute  Rue  descended, 
looking  sweet,  to  him. 

She  had  thrown  a  light  tea-gown  rapidly  around  her  to 
come  down ;  her  hair  was  just  knotted  in  a  natural  coil  on 
top;  she  was  hardly  presentable,  she  said,  with  an  apolo- 
getic smile,  and  a  quick  glance  at  the  glass;  but  Will 
thought  he  had  never  seen  her  look  prettier  or  more  charm- 
ing in  all  his  life  than  she  looked  that  moment. 


T'^     il 


'Hi 


!i.!illii 


A 


'% 


334 


LINNET 


"  I  wouldn't  keep  you  waiting,  Will,"  she  cried,  seizing 
both  his  hands  in  hers.  "  1  knew  if  you  called  at  this 
unusual  hour,  you  must  want  to  see  me  about  something 


serious 


It  is  serious,"  Will  answered,  with  a  very  grave  face. 
"  Rue,  I've  something  to  tell  you  that  may  surprise  you 
much.  That  wretch  Hausberger  has  been  very,  very  cruel 
to  Linnet.  He's  offered  her  bodily  violence  to-day.  And 
that's  not  all : — she  has  proof,  written  proof  of  his  intimacy 
with  Philippina.  He's  thrown  her  on  the  floor,  and  struck 
her  and  bruised  her.  So  she's  left  him  at  once — and  she's 
now  at  my  chambers.'* 

A  sudden  shade  came  over  Rue's  face.  The  shock  was 
a  terrible  one.  This  news  was  different,  very  different  in- 
deed from  what  she  expected  to  hear.  Could  Will  have 
found  out,  she  asked  herself  with  a  flutter,  as  she  put  on 
her  tea-gown,  that  he  loved  her  at  last,  better  even  than 
Linnet?  Linnet  had  been  away  one  whole  long  winter; 
and  when  he  dined  here  last  week,  he  was  so  kind  and  at- 
tentive! So  she  came  down  with  a  throbbing  heart,  all 
expectant  of  results.  That  was  why  Will  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  pretty  before.  And  »iow,  to  find  out  it  was  all 
for  Linnet  he  had  come !  All  for  Linnet,  not  for  her !  Ah 
me,  the  pity  of  it  I 

Yet  she  bore  up  bravely,  all  the  same,  though  her  lips 
quivered  quick,  and  her  eyelids  blinked  hard  to  suppress 
the  rising  moisture.  "  At  your  chambers ! "  :^he  cried, 
with  a  jump  of  her  heart.  "  O  Will,  she  mustn't  stop 
there ! " 

She  sank  into  a  chair,  and  looked  across  at  him  piteously. 
Will,  dimly  perceptive,  seized  her  hands  once  more,  and 
held  them  in  his  own  with  a  gentle  pressure.  Then  he 
went  on  to  explain,  in  very  different  words  from  those  he 
had  used  to  Maud,  all  that  had  happened  that  day  to  him- 
self and  to  Linnet.  He  didn't  even  hide  from  Rue  the 
question  of  divorce,  or  the  story  of  Linnet's  complete  self- 
surrender.  He  knew  Rue  would  understand;  he  knew 
Linnet  herself  would  not  be  afraid  of  Rue's  violating  her 
confidence.  He  said  everything  out,  exactly  as  he  felt  it. 
Last  of  all,  he  explained  how  he  had  been  round  to  Maud's, 
what  he  had  asked  of  Maud,  and  what  answer  Maud  had 
made  to  him. 


if'llHI !, 


LINNET'S  RIVAL 


335 


He  had  got  so  far  when  Rue  rose  and  faced  him.  Her 
cheeks  were  very  white,  and  she  trembled  violently.  But 
she  spoke  out  like  a  woman,  with  a  true  woman's  heart. 
"  She  must  come  here  at  once,  Will,"  she  cried.  "  There's 
not  a  moment  to  lose.  She  must  come  here  at  once.  Go 
quick  home  and  fetch  her." 

"  You're  quite  sure  you  can  take  her  in,  Rue  ?  "  Will 
asked,  with  a  very  guilty  feeling,  seizing  her  hands  once 
more.  "  I  can't  bear  to  ask  you ;  but  since  you  offer  it 
of  your  own  accord " 

Rue  held  his  hands  tremulously  in  her  own  for  awhile, 
and  gazed  at  him  hard  with  a  wistful  countenance.  "  Dear 
Will,"  she  faltered  out  in  a  half-articulate  voice.  "  I  in- 
vite her  here  myself ;  I  beg  of  you  to  bring  her.  Though  it 
breaks  my  own  heart — it  breaks  my  heart.  Yet  I  ask  you 
all  the  same — bring  her  here,  oh,  bring  her !  " 

Heart-broken  she  looked,  indeed.  Will  leant  forward 
automatically.  "  Dear  Rue,"  he  cried,  "  you're  too  good — 
too  good  and  kind  for  anything ;  I  never  knew  till  this  mo- 
ment how  very  good  and  kind  you  were.  And  I  love  you 
so  much !  "  He  held  forward  his  face.  "  Only  once !  " 
he  murmured,  drawing  her  towards  him  with  one  arm. 
"  Just  this  once !    It's  so  good  of  you !  " 

Rue  held  up  her  face  in  return,  and  answered  him  back 
in  a  choking  voice,  "  Yes,  yes ;  just  this  once,  O  Will,  my 
Will — before  I  feel  you're  Linnet's  for  ever !  " 

He  clasped  her  tight  in  his  arms.  Rue  let  him  embrace 
her  unresistingly.  She  kissed  him  long  and  hard,  and 
nestled  there  tenderly.  For  fifty  whole  seconds  she  was  in 
heaven  indeed.  At  last,  with  a  little  start,  she  broke  away 
and  left  him.  "  Now  go,"  she  said,  standing  a  yard  or  two 
off,  and  gazing  at  him,  tearfully.  "  Go  at  once  and  fetch 
her.  Every  moment  she  stops  in  your  rooms  is  compro- 
mising. .  .  .  Go,  go ;  good-by !  .  .  .  You're  mine  no 
longer.  But,  Will,  don't  be  afraid  I  shall  be  sad  when  she 
comes !  I'll  have  my  good  cry  out  in  my  own  room  first ; 
and,  by  the  time  she  arrives,  I'll  be  smiling  to  receive  her !  " 


^f^if-immm 


p/l^    7 


OS. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


AND  WILL  S 


At  Will's  chambers,  meanwhile,  Linnet  sat  and  waited, 
her  flushed  face  in  her  hands,  her  hot  ears  tingling.  She 
had.  plenty  of  time  in  Will's  absence  to  reflect  and  to  ru- 
minate. Horror  and  shame  for  her  own  outspokenness  be- 
gan to  overcome  her.  If  Will  had  accepted  her  sacrifice, 
indeed,  as  frankly  as  she  oflfered  it,  that  profound  emo- 
tional nature  would  have  felt  nothing  of  the  kind;  her 
passion  would  have  hallowed  and  sanctified  her  love  in  her 
own  eyes — not  as  the  Church  could  have  done,  to  be  sure ; 
not  from  the  religious  side  at  all ;  but  still,  from  the  alter- 
native point  of  view  of  the  human  heart,  which  to  her  was 
almost  equally  sacred  in  its  way,  'twould  have  hallowed 
and  sanctified  it.  Linnet  would  have  regarded  her  union 
with  Will  as  sinful  and  wrong,  but  not  as  impure  or  un- 
holy; she  wouldn't  have  attempted  to  justify  it,  but  she 
would  never  have  felt  ashamed  of  it.  She  recognized  it 
as  the  union  imposed  upon  her  by  the  laws  of  her  own 
highest  nature ;  the  laws  of  God,  as  she  understood  them, 
might  forbid  it  and  punish  it — they  never  could  make  it 
anything  else  for  her  than  pure  and  beautiful  and  true 
and  ennobling. 

But  Will's  refusal,  for  her  own  sake,  to  accept  her  self- 
surrender,  filled  her  soul  with  shame  for  her  slighted 
womanhood.  She  understood  Will's  reasons ;  she  saw  how 
unselfish  and  kind  were  his  motives;  but  still,  the  sense 
remained  that  she  had  debased  herself  before  him,  all 
to  no  purpose.  She  had  oflfered  him  the  most  precious  gift 
a  woman  can  oflFer  to  any  man — and  he,  he  had  rejected  it. 
Linnet  bowed  down  her  head  in  intense  humiliation.  On 
her  own  scheme  of  life,  she  would  have  been  far  less  dis- 
honored by  Will's  accepting  her  then  and  there,  in  a  hot 
flood  of  passion,  than  by  his  proposal  to  wait  till  she  could 
get  a  purely  meaningless  and  invalid  release  from  her  sac- 

336 


AND  WILL'S 


337 


lure  or  un- 


rament  with  Andreas.  Having  once  made  up  her  mind  to 
desert  her  husband  and  follov/  her  own  heart,  in  spite  of 
ultimate  consequences,  it  seemed  to  her  almost  foolish  that 
Will  should  shrink  on  her  account  from  the  verdict  of  the 
world,  when  she  herself  did  not  shrink — so  great  was  her 
love — from  the  wrath  of  heaven  and  eternal  punishment. 

But,  as  she  sat  there  and  ruminated,  it  began  gradually 
to  dawn  upon  her  that  in  some  ways  Will  was  right ;  even 
if  she  sinned  boldly  and  openly,  as  she  was  prepared  to  sin, 
before  Our  Lady  and  *he  Saints,  it  might  be  well  for  her 
immediate  comfort  and  happiness  to  keep  up  appearances 
before  English  society.  Perhaps  it  was  desirable  for  the 
next  few  days,  till  the  talk  blew  over,  to  go,  as  Will  said, 
under  some  married  woman's  protection.  But  what  mar- 
ried woman?  Not  that  calmly  terrible  Mrs.  Sartoris,  at 
any  rate.  She  dreaded  Will's  sister,  more  even  than  she 
dreaded  the  average  middle-aged  British  matron.  She 
knew  how  Maud  would  treat  her,  if  she  took  her  in  at 
all;  better  anything  at  that  moment  of  volcanic  passion 
than  the  cold  and  cutting  repose,  the  icy  calmness  of  the 
British  matron's  unemotional  demeanor. 

As  Linnet  was  sitting  there  with  her  face  in  her  hands, 
longing  for  Will's  return,  and  half-doubting  in  her  own 
heart  whether  she  had  done  quite  right,  even  from  her 
own  heart's  standpoint,  in  coming  straight  away  to  him — 
Florian  Wood,  in  a  faultless  frock-coat,  with  a  moss-rose 
in  his  buttonhole,  strolled  by  himself  in  a  lazy  mood  down 
Piccadilly.  It  was  Florian's  way  to  lounge  through  life, 
and  he  was  lounging  as  usual.  He  pulled  out  his  watch. 
Hullo!  time  for  dinner!  Now,  Florian  was  always  a 
creature  of  impulse.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  with 
cane  poised  in  his  dainty  hand,  which  of  three  courses  to 
pursue  that  lay  open  before  him.  Should  he  drop  into  the 
Savile  for  his  evening  meal ;  should  he  go  home  by  himself 
to  Grosvenor  Gardens ;  or  should  he  take  pot-luck  with 
Will  Deverill  in  Duke  Street?  Bah!  the  dinner  at  the 
Savile's  a  mere  bad  table  d'hote.  At  home,  he  would  be 
lonely  with  a  solitary  chop.  The  social  instinct  within  him 
impelled  him  at  once  to  seek  for  society  with  his  old  friend 
in  St.  James's. 

He  opened  the  door  for  himself,  for  he  had  a  latch-key 
that  fitted  it.    In  the  hall,  Ellen  was  seated,  and  the  man- 


^^T^ 


338 


LINNET 


4 


% 


-.ervant  of  the  house  was  standing  by  and  flirting  with  her. 
"  Mr.  Deverill's  not  at  home,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  hurried 
start,  as  Florian  entered. 

"  Never  mind,"  the  Epicurean  philosopher  replied,  with 
his  bland,  small  smile.  "  Pretty  girl  on  the  chair  there. 
He's  coming  back  to  dinner,  I  suppose,  at  the  usual  hour. 
Very  well,  that's  right ;  I'll  go  up  and  wait  for  him.  You 
can  tell  Mrs.  Watts  to  lay  covers  for  two.  I  propose  to 
dine  here." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  the  man  said,  placing  himself 
full  in  front  of  Florian's  delicate  form,  so  as  to  half-block 
the  passage;  "  there's  a  lady  upstairs."  He  hesitated,  and 
simpered.  "  I  rather  think,"  he  continued,  very  doubtful 
how  to  proceed,  **  Mr.  Deverill  wished  nobody  to  go  up  till 
he  came  back  again.    Leastways,  I  had  orders." 

"  Why,  it's  Signora  Casalmonte !  "  Florian  broke  in, 
interrupting  him ;  for  he  recognized  the  pretty  girl  on  a 
second  glance  as  the  housemaid  at  Linnet's.  An  expansive 
smile  diffused  itself  over  his  close-shaven  face.  This  was 
indeed  a  discovery !  Linnet  come  to  Will  Deverill's !  And 
with  a  portmanteau,  too ! — Will,  whose  stern  morality  had 
read  him  so  many  pretty  lectures  on  conduct  in  the  Tyrol. 
And  Linnet — that  devout  Catholic,  so  demure,  so  immac- 
ulate, the  very  pink  of  public  singers,  the  pure  flower  of 
the  stage!  Who  on  earth  would  have  believed  it?  But 
there  it's  these  quiet  souls  who  are  alwayj;  the  deepest! 
While  Florian  himself,  for  all  his  talk,  hov^  innocent  lie 
was,  how  harmless,  how  free  from  every  taint  of  guile, 
wile,  or  deception!  What  reconciled  him  to  life,  as  he 
grew  older  every  day,  was  the  thought  that,  after  all,  'twas 
so  very  amusing. 

The  man  hesitated  still  more.  "  I  don't  think  you  must 
go  up,  sir,"  he  said,  still  barring  the  way,  "  Mr.  Deverill 
told  me  if  Hare  Houseberger  called,  to  say  he  wasn't  at 
home  to  him." 

Florian's  face  was  a  study.  It  rippled  over  with  succes- 
sive waves  of  stifled  laughter.  But  Ellen,  with  feminine 
quickness,  saw  the  error  of  the  man's  clumsy  male  in- 
telligence. It  would  never  do  for  Mr.  Wood,  that  silver- 
tongued  man-about-town  to  go  away  and  explain  at  every 
club  in  London  how  he'd  caught  the  Casalmonte,  with  her 
maid  and  her  portmanteau,  on  a  surreptitious  visit  to 


AND  WILL'S 


339 


Will  Deveriirs  chambers.  Better  far  he  should  go  up  and 
see  the  Signora  herself.  Principals,  in  such  cases,  should 
invent  their  own  lies,  untrammeled  by  their  subordinates. 
The  Signora  might  devise  what  excuse  she  thought  best  to 
keep  Florian's  mouth  shut ;  and  Will  himself  might  come 
back  before  long  to  corroborate  it. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  hastily,  with  much  evident  artless- 
ness.  "  You  can  go  up,  sir,  of  course.  The  Signora's  just 
waiting  to  see  Mr.  Deverill." 

Florian  brushed  past  the  man  with  a  spring,  and  ran 
lightly  up  the  stairs,  with  quite  as  much  agility  as  so  small 
a  body  can  be  expected  to  compass.  He  burst  into  the 
room  unannounced.  Linnet  rose,  in  very  obvious  dismay, 
to  greet  him.  She  was  taken  aback,  Florian  could  see — 
and  glad  indeed  he  was  to  notice  it.  This  little  contretemps 
was  clearly  the  wise  man's  opportunity.  Providential, 
providential !  He  grasped  her  hand  with  warmth,  printing 
a  delicate  little  squeeze  on  the  soft  bit  of  muscle  between 
thumb  and  fingers.  "  What,  Linnet !  "  he  cried,  "  alone, 
and  in  Will  Deverill's  rooms!  How  lucky  I  am  to  catch 
you !    This  is  really  delightful !  " 

Linnet  sank  back  in  her  chair.  She  hardly  knew  what 
to  say,  how  to  cover  her  confusion.  But  excuse  herself 
she  must;  some  portion  at  least  of  what  had  passed  she 
must  explain  to  him.  In  a  faltering  voice,  with  many 
pauses  and  hesitations,  she  told  him  a  faint  outline  of  what 
had  happened  that  day — her  quarrel  with  Andreas,  his 
cruel  treatment,  how  he  had  struck  her  and  hurt  her,  how 
she  had  fled  from  him  precipitately.  She  hinted  to  him 
even  in  her  most  delicate  way  some  dim  suggestion  of  her 
husband's  letter  to  Philippina.  Florian  stroked  himself 
and  smiled ;  he  nodded  wisely.  "  We  knew  all  that  be- 
fore," he  put  in  at  last,  with  a  knowing  little  air  of  saga- 
cious innuendo.  "  We  knew  Friend  Hausberger's  little 
ways.  Though,  how  quiet  he  kept  over  them !  A  taciturn 
Don  Juan !  a  most  prudent  Lothario !  "  It  was  the  wise 
man's  cue  now  to  set  Linnet  still  further  against  her  hus- 
band. 

"So  I  left  him,"  Linnet  went  on  simply,  with  trans- 
parent naivete;  "  I  left  him,  and  came  away,  just  packing 
a  few  clothes  into  my  portmanteau,  hurriedly.  I  didn't 
know  where  to  go,  so  I  came  straight  to  Mr.  Deverill's. 


340 


LINNET 


m 


He  was  always  a  good  friend  of  mine,  you  know,  was  Air. 
Deverill."  She  paused,  and  blushed.  "  I've  sent  him 
out,"  she  continued,  with  a  little  pardonable  deviation 
from  the  strictest  veracity,  "  to  see  if  he  can  find  me  some 
house  among  his  friends — some  English  lady's — where  I 
can  stop  for  the  present,  till  I  know  what  I  mean  to  do,  now 
I've  come  away  from  Andreas.  He's  going  to  his  sister's 
first,  to  see  if  she  can  take  me  in ;  after  that,  if  she  can't, 
he's  going  to  look  about  elsewhere." 

She  gazed  up  at  him  timidly.  She  felt,  as  she  spoke, 
Will  was  right  after  all.  How  could  she  brave  the  whi)le 
world's  censure,  openly  and  frankly  expressed,  if  she 
shrank  so  instinctively  from  the  pryng  gaze  of  that  one 
man,  Florian?  God,  who  reads  all  hearts,  would  know. 
"if  she  sinned,  she  sinned  for  true  love ;  but  the  world — tliat 
hateful  world — Linnet  leant  back  in  her  seat  and  shut  her 
eyes  with  horror. 

As  for  Florian,  however,  he  seized  the  occasion  with 
avidity.  He  saw  his  chance  now.  He  was  all  respectful 
sympathy.  The  man  Hausberger  was  a  wretch  who  had 
never  been  fit  for  her;  he  had  entrapped  her  by  fraud; 
she  did  right  to  leave  him.  What  horrid  marks  on  her  arm. 
and  on  that  soft  brown  neck  of  hers !  Did  the  cur  do  that  ? 
What  a  creature,  to  lay  hands  on  so  divine  a  woman! 
Though,  of  course,  it  was  unwise  of  her  to  come  round  t(i 
Will's;  the  world — and  here  Florian  assumed  his  most 
virtuously  sympathetic  expression  of  face — the  world  is 
so  cruel,  so  suspicious,  so  censorious.  For  themselves, 
they  two  moved  on  a  higher  plane ;  they  saw  through  the 
conventions  and  restrictions  of  society.  Still,  it  was  al- 
ways well  to  respect  the  convenances.  Mrs.  Sartoris! 
Oh,  dear,  no !  unsympathetic,  out  of  touch  with  her !  And 
yet,  oh,  how  dangerous  to  stop  here  in  these  rooms  one 
moment  longer.  With  dexterous  little  side  hints  the  wise 
man  worked  upon  Linnet's  fears  liisensibly.  That  fellow 
in  the  passage,  now — the  people  of  the  house — so  unwise, 
so  uncertain ;  who  could  tell  friend  from  enemy  ? 

As  he  spoke,  Linnet  grew  every  moment  more  and  more 
uneasy.  "  I  wish  Will  would  come  back !  "  she  cried.  "  T 
wish  I  had  somewhere  to  go !  It  makes  me  so  afraid,  you 
see — this  delay,  this  uncertainty." 


AND  WILL'S 


341 


r,  was  Mr. 
sent  him 
deviation 
d  me  some 
i — where  I 
to  do,  now 
his  sister's 
i  she  can't. 

she  spoke. 

I  the  whole 
jed,  if  she 
of  that  one 
ould  know, 
^vorld — that 
nd  shut  her 

casion  with 

II  respectful 
ch  who  had 
r  by  fraud; 

on  her  arm. 
cur  do  that  ? 
I  a  woman! 
me  round  to 
ed  his  most 
he  world  is 
themselves, 
through  the 
it  was  al- 
s.    Sartoris! 
hher!    And 
rooms  one 
ints  the  wise 
That  fellow 
—so  unwise, 

y? 

)re  and  more 
le  cried.  "  ^ 
0  afraid,  you 


Florian  played  a  trump  card  boldly.  "  Why  not  come 
oiT  vvidi  me  at  once,  then,"  he  suggested,  "  to  my  sister's?  " 

"Your  sister's?"  Linnet  asked.  "But  I  didn't  know 
you  had  one !  " 

Florian  waived  his  hand  airily,  witha  compulsive  gesture, 
as  if  he  could  call  sisters  to  command  from  the  vasty  deep, 
in  any  required  quantity — as  indeed  was  the  case.  "  Oh 
dear,  yes,"  he  answered.  "  She  hasn't  been  long  in  town. 
She — er — she  lives  mostly  in  Brittany."  He  paused  for  a 
second  to  give  his  fancy  free  play.  Ah,  happy  thought ! 
just  so! — a  clergyman's  wife  would  be  the  very  thing  for 
the  purpose.  *'  Her  husband's  chaplain  at  Dinan,"  he  went 
on,  with  his  bland  smile,  romancing  readily.  "  She  doesn't 
often  come  over.  She's  not  well  off,  poor  dear;  but  this 
year  she's  taken  a  house  for  the  season  ...  in  Pimlico. 
You  might  go  round  there,  at  least,  while  you're  waiting 
for  Will.  It's  less  compromising  than  this ;  and  we  coukl 
leave  a  note  behind  to  tell  him  where  he  could  find  you." 

Linnet  del)atcd  internally.  Florian  paused,  and  looked 
judicial.  "  What  sort  of  person  is  she?"  Linnet  asked  at 
last,  hesitat'ng.    "  Kind — nice — sympathetic?  " 

•*  You've  summed  her  up  in  one  word !  "  Florian  an- 
swered with  a  flourish.  "  Sympathetic — that's  just  it ; 
she's  bubbling  over  with  sympathy.  She  goes  out  to  all 
troubled  souls.  Though  I'm  her  own  brother, and  therefore 
naturally  prejudiced  against  her,  I  never  knew  anyone  so 
intensely  capable  of  throwing  herself  forth  towards  other 
people  as  my  sister  Marian.  She's  the  exact  antipodes  of 
that  unspeakable  Sartoris  woman ;  human,  human,  human, 
above  all  things  humati ;  she  brims  and  overflows  with  the 
milk  of  human  kindness!  And  she  took  such  a  fancy  to 
you,  too,  when  she  saw  you  one  night,  in  Cophctua's  Ad- 
venture. She  said  to  me,  *  O  Florian,  do  you  think  she'd 
come  and  stay  with  us?  I'd  give  anything  to  know  that 
sweet  creature  personally.*  I  told  her.  of  course,  you 
never  stayed  with  anybody  under  the  rank  of  a  crowned 
head  or  a  millionaire  soap-boiler.  She  was  quite  disap- 
pointed, and  she'd  be  only  too  delighted  now,  I'm  sure,  if 
she  could  be  of  any  service  to  you." 

He  looked  at  her  hard.  He  had  provided  a  sister,  men- 
tally.   As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  knew  a  lady — a  most  oblig- 


y|iii»  p  j|  .  Lii 


342 


LINNET 


tfl 


3h^'| 


ing  lady — tolerably  reputable,  too — in  a  side  street  in 
Pimlico,  who  would  be  willing  (for  a  slight  consideration) 
to  take  Linnet  in,  and  adopt  any  relation  she  was  told  to 
Florian.  Once  get  a  married  woman  (and  a  singer-body 
at  that)  away  from  her  husband,  into  a  house  of  your  own 
choosing,  and — given  agreeable  manners  and  a  persuasive 
tongue — you  can  do  before  long  pretty  much  what  you 
like  with  her.  So,  at  least  Florian's  philosophy  had  always 
instructed  him.  He  chuckled  to  himself  to  think  pure 
chance  should  have  enabled  him  thus  to  anticipate  Will 
Deverill.  And  if  Will  was  playing  this  game,  this  simple 
little  game,  why  on  earth  shouldn't  he  play  it  too,  and  out- 
wit his  rival  ? 

He  went  on  to  expatiate  very  enthusiastically  to  Linnet 
on  the  imaginary  sister's  sympathetic  virtues.  In  a  few- 
minutes  he  had  made  her  so  absolutely  charming — for  he 
was  a  fluent  talker — that  at  last  Linnet,  who,  like  all 
Tyrolese,  was  impulsive  at  heart,  jumped  up  from  her 
seat  and  exclaimed  with  a  sudden  burst,  "  Very  well,  then ; 
I'll  go  there.  It's  safer  there  than  here.  We  can  leave 
a  line  for  Will  to  let  him  have  the  address.  I'll  sit  down 
and  write  it." 

"  No,  no,"  Florian  cried,  eagerly,  seizing  a  pen  in  haste. 
"  I'll  write  it  myself.  Then  we'll  take  a  cab  outside,  and 
go  round  there  together." 

For  if  once  Linnet  was  seen  with  him  in  a  hansom  in  the 
street—  iter  leaving  her  husband — her  fate  was  sealed. 
She  might  as  well  do  what  all  the  world  would  im- 
mediately say  she  was  bent  on  doing. 


CHAPTER  XLV 


BY   AUTHORITY 


As  Florian  sat  there,  scribbling  off  a  few  lines  of  apology 
for  their  hasty  departure,  the  door  opened  of  a  sudden — 
and  Will  Dcverill  entered. 

Florian  rose,  a  little  abashed — though,  to  be  sure,  it  took 
a  Q^ood  deal  to  abash  Florian.  He  stood  by  the  desk,  hesi- 
tating, with  his  unfinished  letter  dangling  idly  in  his  hand, 
while  he  debated  inwardly  what  plausible  lie  he  could  in- 
vent on  the  spur  of  the  moment  and  palm  oflF  to  excuse  him- 
self. But  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  to  a  suitable 
story.  Linnet — that  impulsive  southern  Linnet — had 
rushed  forward,  all  eager,  with  her  own  version  of  the 
episode.  "  O  Will,"  she  cried,  spoiling  all  by  her  frank 
avowal,  "  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  at  last !  I  couldn't 
bear  to  wait  here  in  doubt  any  longer;  and  Florian's  so 
kind:  he  was  just  going  to  take  me  off  for  the  night  to  his 
sister's!" 

Will  turned  from  her  and  gazed  at  Florian  for  a  brief 
space  in  blank  surprise.  Then,  as  by  degrees  it  dawned 
upon  him  what  this  treachery  really  meant,  his  face 
changed  little  by  little  to  one  of  shocked  and  horrified  in- 
credulity. "  Florian,"  he  said,  in  a  very  serious  voice, 
"  come  out  here  into  the  passage.  This  thing  must  be  ex- 
plained.    I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

Florian  followed  him  on  to  the  landing,  hardly  knowing 
what  he  did.  Will's  eye  was  cold  and  stern.  "  Now 
look  here,"  he  said,  frigidly  fixing  his  man  with  his  icy 
gaze,  "  it's  no  use  lying  to  me.  I  know  as  well  as  you  do, 
you've  got  no  sister." 

Florian  smiled  imperturbable.  "  Well,  no,"  he  said 
blandly ;  "  but — 1  thought  I  might  improvise  one." 

Will  took  him  in  at  a  glance.  He  pointed  with  one  hand 
to  the  stairs,  impressively,  "  Go !  without  another  word," 
he  said.    "  You've  behaved  like  a  cad.    Instead  of  trying 

343 


M;; 


344 


LINNET 


to  save  and  help  this  poor  girl,  you've  concocted  a  vile 
plan  in  my  absence  to  ruin  her." 

Florian  turned  to  him,  cynically.  "  You  were  looking 
out  for  a  house  to  take  her  to  yourself,"  he  answered.  *'  I 
don't  suppose  you  mean  to  return  her  to  her  husband.  If 
you  may  do  it,  why  not  /  as  well?  Two  can  play  at  that 
game,  you  know.  It's  quits  between  us.  You  needn't 
pretend  to  such  high  morality  at  the  very  moment  when 
you're  engaged  in  enticing  another  man's  wife  away  from 
her  husband." 

Will  didn't  deign  any  further  to  bandy  words  with  the 
fellow.  "Go!"  he  said,  once  more,  pointing  sternly  to 
the  doorway.  Florian  turned  on  his  heel,  and  slimk  down 
the  stairs,  as  jauntily  as  he  could,  but  looking  for  all  that 
just  a  trifle  disconcerted.  Will  leant  over  the  banisters,  as 
he  went  with  a  sudden  afterthought.  "And  if  ever  you  dare 
to  say  anything  to  anyone  on  earth  about  having  seen  Lin- 
net here,  at  my  rooms,  to-night,"  he  called  out.  very  point- 
edly, "  I  shall  think  you,  if  possible,  even  a  greater  cad 
than  I  think  you  now,  and  not  hesitate  to  say  so." 

He  returned  to  Linnet  in  his  sitting-room.  \\v 
wouldn't  speak  before  her  to  Florian  because  he  couldn't 
bear  she  should  even  suspect  how  bad  an  opinion  the  man 
had  had  of  her,  and  what  plot  he  had  laid  for  her. 

"  You  shall  go  round  to  Mrs.  Palmer's.  Linnet,"  ht-  said. 
taking  her  hand  in  his.  "  The  place  Florian  spoke  of 
isn't  at  all  the  right  place  for  a  girl  like  you.  Rut  Rue  v\  ill 
receive  you  like  a  sister,  iiill  we  can  arrange  some  other 
plan  for  you.  At  her  house,  you'll  be  safe  from  every 
whisper  of  scandal." 

"  You'll  take  me  there,  won't  you  ?  "  Linnet  inquired. 
gazing  wistfully  at  him. 

On  ';hat  point,  however.  Will  was  firm  as  a  rock. 
**  No,  dearest,"  he  answered,  laying  one  hand  on  her  fnll 
I'ound  arm,  persuasively.  *'  You  must  go  there  alone,  with 
only  your  maid.  It's  better  so.  Rue  has  a  friend  or  two 
coming  in  to  dine  with  her  to-night.  They'll  see  you  ar- 
rive at  her  door  by  yourself;  and  if  any  talk  comes  of  it. 
they'll  know  how  to  answer  it." 

Linnet  flung  herself  upon  him  once  more,  in  a  last  cling- 
ing embrace.  She  was  wildly  in  love  with  him.  Will 
pressed  her  hard  to  his  heart;  then  he  gently  disengaged 


BY  AUTHORITY 


345 


himself,  and  led  her  to  the  door.  A  cab  was  in  waiting — 
the  cab  that  brought  him  there.  Linnet  got  into  it  at  once, 
and  drove  off  with  Ellen.  In  twenty  minutes  more,  she 
was  in  Rue's  pretty  drawing-room. 

That  night,  when  all  the  rest  were  gone,  she  and  Rue 
sat  up  long  and  late,  talking  together  earnestly.  Their  talk 
was  of  Will.  Linnet  didn't  try  to  conceal  from  her  new 
friend  how  much  she  loved  him.  Rue  listened  sympa- 
thetically, suppressing  her  own  heart,  so  that  Linnet  ceased 
even  to  remember  to  herself  how  she  had  thought  once  of 
the  grand  lady  as  her  most  dangerous  rival. 

lUit  all  the  time,  Rue  preached  to  her  one  line  of  ci'um 
alone:  "You  must  get  a  divorce,  of  course,  dear,  I'i'^ 
marry  Will  Deverill,"  And  all  the  time.  Linnet  shook  her 
head,  and  answered  through  her  tears.  "  A  divorce  to  me 
is  a  mockery  and  a  delusion.  I'd  rather  stop  with  Iiim 
openly,  and  defy  the  world  and  the  Church  together,  than 
affront  my  (lod  l)y  pretending  to  marry  him,  when  1  know 
ill  my  heart  Andreas  Ilausberger  is  and  must  always  be 
my  one  real  husband." 

At  last  tliey  went  to  lied.  Neither  slept  much  that  eve- 
ning. Linnet  thought  about  Will ;  Rue  thought  about 
Linnet.  As  things  now  stood.  Rue  would  give  much  to 
help  them.  Since  Will  loved  this  woman  far  more  than 
lie  loved  her,  she  wished  indeed  Linnet  might  be  frcvd  at 
last  from  that  hateful  man  and  thev  two  might  somehow 
be  happy  together.  Only  the  Church  stood  in  the  way — 
that  implacable  Church,  with  its  horrible  dogma  of  indis- 
>ohible  marriage. 

\ext  day,  Linnet  spent  very  quietly  at  Rue's.  Will 
never  came  near  the  house ;  but  he  wrote  round  a  long 
and  earnest  letter  to  Linnet,  urging  her  with  all  the  force 
and  persuasiveness  he  knew  to  go  down  that  night  as  usual 
to  the  theater  Tt  .'  ns  best,  he  said,  in  order  to  avoid  a 
scandal,  that  sb^  shoukl  appear  to  have  left  her  unworthy 
husband  on  gnAinds  of  his  own  misconduct  alone,  and  be 
anxious  to  fulfil  in  every  other  way  all  her  ordinary  en- 
gagements. 

Linnet  went,  »t<*k  at  heart.  She  hardly  knew  how  she 
was  to  get  throu^i  Caniicu.  I'ut  when  she  saw  Will's 
face  in  a^box  at  the  sid<  watching  her  with  eager  anxiety, 
she  plucked  up  heart, lh'!, fired  by  her  own  excitement,  sang 


346 


LINNET 


vi 


her  part  in  that  stirring  romance  as  she  had  never  before 
sung  it.  She  rushed  at  her  Toreador  as  she  would  haw- 
rushed  at  Will  Deverill.  At  times,  too.  as  in  the  cigar 
factory  scene,  she  was  defiant  with  a  wonderful  and  life- 
like defiance ;  for  she  marked  another  face  in  the  stalls  be- 
fore her — Andreas  Hausberger's  hard  face,  gazing  up  at 
his  flown  bird  with  intense  determination.  Rue  had  come 
to  see  her  through.  At  the  end  of  the  performance,  Rue 
waited  at  the  door  for  her.  Will  passed  by,  and  spoke 
casually  just  a  few  simple  words  of  friendly  congratula- 
tion on  her  splendid  performance ;  then  she  drove  away, 
flushed,  to  Hans  Place,  in  Rue's  carriage. 

It  didn't  escape  her  notice,  however,  that,  is  she  stepped 
in,  Andreas  Hausberger  stood  behind,  with  his  hand  on 
the  door  of  their  own  hired  l^rougham.  As  Linnet  drove 
oflf  he  leaned  forward  to  the  coachman.  "  Follow  the 
green  liverv,"  he  called  out  in  so  loud  a  voice  that  Linnet 
overheard  it.  When  they  drew  up  at  Rue's  door,  he  was 
close  behind  them.  But  he  noted  the  number,  that  was  all ; 
he  had  been  there  before,  indeed,  to  Rue's  Sunday  after- 
noons, and  only  wished  to  make  sure  of  the  house,  and 
that  Linnet  was  stopping  there.  "  Drive  on  home,"  he 
called  to  the  man  ;  and  disappeared  in  the  distance.  Linnet 
looked  after  him  and  shuddered.  She  knew  what  that 
mearitt ;  and  she  trembled  at  the  thought.  He  would  come 
back  to  fetch  her. 

She  was  a  Catholic  still.  Tf  he  came  and  bid  her  follow 
him — ^her  lawful  husband — how  could  she  dare  refuse 
him? 

All  that  night  long,  she  lay  awake  and  prayed,  torturirii: 
her  pure  soul  with  many  doubts  and  terrors.  In  the  lone 
hours  of  early  morning,  ghastly  fears  beset  her.  The 
anger  of  Heaven  seemed  to  thunder  in  her  ears  ;  the  flanv  s 
of  Hell  rose  up  to  take  hold  of  her.  She  would  give  hrr 
verv  life  to  go  back  again  to  Will ;  and  the  nether  ab>  ss 
yawned  wide  its  fiery  mouth  to  receive  her  as  she  thoui^lit 
It.  She  would  go  back  to  Will,  let  what  would,  come:— 
but  she  knew  it  was  wrong ;  she  knew  it  was  wicked ;  she 
knew  it  was  the  deadly  unspeakable  sin ;  she  knew  she 
must  answer  before  the  throne  of  God  for  it. 

Oh.  how  could  she  confess  it,  even  to  her  own  parish 
priest  I     How  ask  for  penance,  absolution,  blessing,  when 


BY  AUTHORITY 


347 


ove  awav, 


she  meant  in  her  heart  to  live,  if  she  could,  every  day  of 
lier  life  in  unholy  desire  or  unholy  union!  O  God,  God, 
God,  how  could  she  face  his  anger! 

She  rose  next  morning,  very  pale  and  haggard.  Rue 
tried  to  console  her.  But  no  Protestant  consolation  could 
touch  those  inner  chords  of  her  ingrained  nature.  Strange 
to  say  all  those  she  loved  and  trusted  most  were  of  the 
alien  creed ;  and  in  these  her  deepest  doubts  and  fears  and 
troubles  they  cou)d  give  her  no  comfort.  About  eleven 
o'clock  came  a  knock  at  the  door.  Linnet  sat  in  the  break- 
fast-room ;  she  heard  a  sound  of  feet  on  the  staircase  hard 
by — two  men  being  shown  up,  as  she  guessed,  into  the 
drawing-room. 

The  servant  brought  down  two  cards.  Linnet  looked 
at  them  with  a  sinking  heart.  One  was  Andreas  Haus- 
berger's ;  tlic  other  bore  the  name  of  her  London  confes- 
sor, a  German-speaking  priest  of  the  pro-Cathedral  at 
Kensington. 

She  passed  them  to  Rue  with  a  sigh.  "  I  may  go  up 
with  you  ?  "  Rue  cried,  for  she  longed  to  protect  her. 

Bur  Linnet  shrank  back.  "  Oh  no.  dear,"  she  an- 
swered, shaking  her  head  very  solemnly.  "  How  I  wish 
you  could  come !  You  could  sit  and  hold  my  hand.  It 
would  do  me  so  much  goorl.  But  this  is  a  visit  of  re- 
ligion.    My  priest  wouldn't  like  it." 

She  went  upstairs  with  a  bold  step,  but  with  a  throb- 
bing heart.  Rue  followed  her  anxiously,  and  took  a  chair 
on  the  landing.  What  happened  next  inside,  she  couldn't 
hear  in  full,  but  undertones  of  it  came  wafted  to  her 
throu'^h  the  door  indistinctly.  There  was  a  l)lur  of 
sounds,  among  which  Rue  could  distinguish  Andreas 
Hausberger's  cold  tone,  not  angry,  indeed,  but  rather  low 
and  conciliatory  ;  the  priest's  sharp  German  voice,  now  in- 
quiring, now  chiding,  now  ht)rtative,  now  minatory ;  and 
Linnet's  trembling  speech,  at  first  defiant,  then  penitently 
apologetic,  at  last  awestruck  and  terrified.  Rue  leant 
forward  to  listen.  She  could  just  distinguish  the  note, 
but  not  the  words.  Lmnet  was  speaking  novv  very  earn- 
estly and  'solemnly  Then  came  a  i)ause,  and  the  priest 
spoke  next — exhorting,  threatening,  flennnncing.  m 
inre  German  guttcrals.  His  voice  was  like  tlie  voice  of 
Hie  angry  Church  reprovmg  the  sins  of  the  flesh,  the  pride 


348 


LINNET 


of  the  eyes,  the  lusts  of  the  body.  Linnet  bowed  her 
head,  Rue  felt  sure,  before  that  fierce  denunciation.  There 
was  a  noise  of  deep  sobs,  the  low  wail  of  a  broken  heart. 
Rue  drew  back  aghast.  The  Church  was  having  its  way. 
They  had  terrified  Linnet. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  the  gentle-hearted  Ameri- 
can felt  herself  on  the  side  of  the  sinners.  She  would 
have  given  anything  just  that  moment  to  get  Linnet 
away  from  those  two  dreadful  men,  and  set  her  down  una- 
wares in  Will's  chambers  in  Duke  Street.  She  tried  hard 
to  open  the  door,  but  the  key  was  turned.  *'  Linnet,  Lin- 
net !  "  she  cried,  knocking  loud,  and  calling  the  poor  girl 
by  her  accustomed  pet  name,  "  let  me  in !  1  w  nt  to  speak 
to  you !  " 

"No,  dear;  I  can't!"  Linnet  answered  through  the 
door,  gulping  down  a  great  sob.  "  I  must  fight  it  out  by 
myself.     .Wy  sin  ;  my  punishment." 

The  voices  went  on  again,  a  little  lower  for  a  while. 
Then  sobs  came  thick  and  fast.  Linnet  was  crying  bit- 
terly. Rue  strained  her  ear  to  hear;  she  couldn't  catch  a 
single  syllable.  The  priest  seemed  to  be  praying,  as  she 
thought, — |)rayiiig  in  Latin.  Then  Linnet  appeared  to 
answer.  For  more  than  an  hour  together  they  wrestled 
with  one  another.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  the  tone  of  the 
priest's  voito  changed.  It  was  mild;  it  was  gracious. 
In  an  agony  of  horror.  Rue  realized  what  that  meant.  She 
felt  sure  Iv  must  be  pronouncing  or  promising  absolu- 
tion. 

So  Linnet  must  have  confessed ! — must  have  renounced 
luT  sin ! — must  have  engaged  to  go  back  and  live  with  that 
man  Andreas! 

Right  or  wrong,  crime  or  shame.  Rue  would  have  given 
ten  thousand  pounds  that  moment — to  take  her  back  to 
Will  Deverill's. 

As  Rue  thought  that  thought,  the  door  opened  at  last, 
and  the  three  came  forth  right  before  her  on  the  landing. 

Andrea^  ind  the  priest  wore  an  air  of  triumph.  Lin- 
net walked  out  in  front  of  them,  red-eyed,  dejected,  misera- 
ble.    The  Church  had  won  :  but,  O  God,  what  a  victory ! 

Rue  sprang  at  her  and  seized  her  hand.  "  Linnet.  Lin- 
net !  "  she  cried  agonized,  "  don't  tell  me  you've  let  those 


BY  AUTHORITY 


349 


two  men  talk  you  over!  Don't  tell  me  you're  going  back 
to  that  dreadful  man !  Don't  tell  me  you're  gomg  to  give 
up  Will  Deverill  for  such  a  creature !  " 

Linnet  fell  upon  her  neck,  weeping.  "  Rue,  Rue,  dear 
Rue,"  she  sobbed  out,  heart-broken,  and  half  beside  her- 
self with  love  and  religious  terror,  "  it  is  not  to  him  that  I 
yield,  O  lieber  Gott,  not  to  him,  but  to  the  Church's 
orders." 

*'  But  you  mustn't !  "  Rue  cried,  aghast,  and  undeterred 
by  the  frowning  priest.  "  You  must  stop  here  with  me, 
and  get  a  divorce,  and  marry  him !  "  And  she  flung  her- 
self upon  her. 

"There!  what  did  I  say?"  Andreas  interposed,  with 
a  demonstrative  air,  turning  icund  to  the  man  of  God. 
**  I  told  you  I  must  take  her  away  from  London  at  once, 
at  all  costs,  at  all  hazards — if  you  didn't  want  her  to  fall 
into  deadly  sin.  and  the  Church  to  lose  its  hold  over  her 
soul  altogether." 

The  priest  looked  at  Rue  with  a  most  disapproving  eye. 
**  Madam,"  he  said,  curtly,  in  somewhat  German  English, 
"  with  exceeding  great  diflficulty  have  I  rescued  this  erring 
daughter  from  the  very  brink  of  mortal  sin — happily,  as 
yet  unconsummated ;  and  now,  will  you,  a  married  woman 
yourself,  who  know  what  all  this  means,  drive  her  back 
from  her  husband  into  the  arms  of  her  lover?  " 

"Yes,  yes;  /  will!"  Rue  cried  boldly — and,  oh,  how 
Linnet  admired  her  for  it!  "1  will!  I  will!  I'll  drive 
her  back  to  Will  Deverill !  Anything  to  get  her  away  from 
that  man  whom  she  hates.  Anything  to  get  her  back  to 
the  odier  whom  she  loves!  Linnet,  Linnet,  come  away 
from  th'^m !     Come  up  with  me  to  my  bedroom !  " 

But  LlniiSt  drew  back,  trembling.  "  Yes.  yes ;  I  hate 
him !  "  she  wailed  out  passionately,  looking  across  at  her 
husband.  "  I  hate  him !  Oh,  T  hate  him !  And  yet.  I 
will  go  with  him.  Not  for  him,  but  for  the  Church !  Oh, 
I  hate  him  !     I  hate  him  !  " 

The  priest  turned  to  Andreas.  "  I  absolved  her  too 
soon,  perhaps,"  he  said  in  German.  "  Pier  penitence  is 
skin-deep.  She  is  still  rebellious.  Quick,  quick,  hurry 
her  ofT  from  this  sinful  adviser.  You'll  do  well,  as  you 
say,  to  get  her  away  as  soon  as  you  can — clear  away  from 


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London.  It's  no  place  for  her,  I'm  sure,  so  long  as  this 
man  ,  .  .  and  his  friends  and  allies  .  .  .  are  here  to 
tempt  her." 

Rue  clung  hard  to  her  still.  "  Linnet,  dear,"  she  cried, 
coaxingly,  **  come  up  to  my  room !  You're  not  going 
with  them,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am,  dear,"  Linnet  sobbed  out,  in  a  heart- 
broken tone.  "  Oh.  how  good  you  are ! — how  sweet  to 
me!    But  I  must  go.     They  have  conquered  me." 

"  Then  I'll  go  round  this  very  minute,"  Rue  burst  forth 
through  her  tears,  *'  and  tell  Will  what  they're  doing  to 
you.  If  it  was  me,  I'd  defy  them  and  their  Church  to 
their  faces.  I'll  go  round  and  tell  Will — and  Will'll  conic 
and  rescue  you !  " 

The  priest  motioned  Linnet  hastily  with  one  hand  down 
the  stairs.  **  Sie  haheii  recht,  Hcrr  Hausbergcr,"  he  mur- 
mured low.  *'  Apage  retro,  Satanas!  With  temptations 
like  these  besetting  her  path,  we  shall  be  justified  in  hurry- 
ing away  this  poor  weak  lamb  of  our  flock  from  the  very 
brink  of  a  precipice  that  so  threatens  to  fall  with  her." 


]■   . 


CHAPTER  XLVI 


HOME   AGAIN 


Andreas  Hausberger  was  always  a  wise  man  in  his 
generation.  The  moment  he  knew  Linnet  had  left  his 
lioiise,  he  realized  forthwith  that  the  one  great  danger  to 
his  interests  lay  in  the  chance  of  her  obtaining  a  divorce, 
and  marrying  Will  Deverill.  To  prevent  such  a  catastro- 
phe to  his  best  investment  was  now  the  chief  object  in  life 
of  the  prudent  impresario.  He  had  iiurried  away  from 
home  that  first  afternoon,  it  is  true,  to  make  sure  how 
things  stood  with  Philippina  and  her  husband ;  but  as  soon 
as  he  found  out  no  serious  danger  menaced  him  there,  he 
rushed  back  to  Avenue  Road — to  find  Linnet  flown,  witii- 
out  a  word  to  say  whither.  Now,  Andreas,  being  a  very 
wise  man,  and  knowing  his  countrywomen  well,  felt  tolera- 
bly sure  Linnet  was  by  far  too  good  a  Catholic  to  agree  to 
a  divorce,  even  if  Will  suggested  it.  She  might  run  away 
to  her  lover  in  a  moment  of  pique — and  so  shut  herself  out 
from  the  benefit  of  the  English  law  on  the  subject  by  mis- 
conducting herself  in  return;  but  fly  in  the  face  of  the 
Church,  insult  her  creed,  defy  its  authority,  annul  its  sacra- 
ments— oh,  never!  never!  Andreas  was  certain  Linnet 
would  do- — just  what  Linnet  really  did ;  fling  herself 
frankly  upon  Will  Deverill's  mercy,  but  refuse  to  marry 
him. 

Moreover,  with  his  usual  worldly  wisdom,  the  zvirth  of 
St.  Valentin  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  Church  was  the  only 
lever  which  could  ever  bring  his  revolted  wife  back  to 
him.  She  had  always  disliked  him ;  she  now  hated  and 
despised  him.  But  he  was  still,  and  must  always  be, 
in  the  sight  of  God,  her  lawful  husband.  Linnet  feared 
and  obeyed  the  Church,  with  the  unquestioning  faith  of  the 
genuine  Tyrolese ;  it  was  to  her  a  pure  fetish — authorita- 
tive, absolute,  final.     Andreas  recognized  clearly  that  his 

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proper  course  now  was  to  enlist  this  mighty  engine,  if 
possible,  in  his  own  favor.  To  guard  against  all  adverse 
chances,  he  must  get  Linnet  back  into  his  power  at  once, 
must  carry  her  away  from  the  sphere  of  Will's  influence, 
and,  if  luck  permitted,  must  hurry  her  off  to  some  lancl 
where  divorce  was  impossible. 

Quick  as  lightning  h^  made  up  his  mind.  To  throw  up 
all  her  engagements  in  London  forthwith  would,  of  course, 
cost  money — tor  she  was  engaged  under  forfeit — and  to 
lose  money  was  indeed  a  serious  consideration.  Still,  in 
the  present  crisis,  the  temporary  loss  of  a  few  stray  hun- 
dreds was  as  nothing  in  Andreas's  eyes  compared  with  tlic 
possible  prospective  loss  of  Linnet's  future  earnings,  lie 
must  risk  that  and  more  in  order  to  snatch  her  from  Will 
Devcrill's  clutches.  lie  had  meant  to  take  his  wife  to 
America,  on  tour,  a  little  later  in  the  year;  and  he  ad- 
hered to  that  programme:  but  not  till  she  had  quite  got 
over  her  present  fit  of  rebellion.  For  a  moment,  he  judged 
it  best  on  many  grounds  to  venture  on  a  bold  step — no  less 
a  step  than  to  go  back  with  her  to  St.  \^alcntin.  For  this 
sudden  resolve,  he  had  ample  reasons.  In  the  first  place, 
he  would  have  her  there  under  the  thumb  of  Austrian  law  ; 
divorce  would  be  impossible — nay,  even  unthinkable.  P>ut. 
in  the  second  place — and  on  this  point  Andreas  counted 
far  more — he  would  have  her  there  in  an  atmosphere  of  un- 
questioning Catholicism,  where  all  the  world  would  take  it 
for  granted  that  to  marrv  Will  Deverill  by  judgment  of  an 
English  court  was  an  insult  to  Providence  ten  thousand 
times  worse  than  to  sin  and  repent — nay,  even  than  to  .sin 
without  pretence  of  repentance,  but  without  the  vain  mock- 
ery of  a  heretical  marriage.  A  few  weeks  in  the  Tyrol. 
Andreas  thought  in  his  wi.se  way.  surrounded  by  all  the 
simple  ideas  of  her  childhood,  and  exposed  to  the  exhorta- 
tions of  her  old  friend,  the  Herr  Vicar,  would  soon  brin.^ 
Linnet  back  from  this  flight  of  unbridled  fancy  to  a  proper 
frame  of  mind  again.  Besides,  the  mountain  air  would  be 
good  for  her  health  after  so  ?<^ormy  an  episode — ozone. 
ozone,  ozone ! — and  he  wanted  her  to  be  in  first-rate  sing- 
ing voice,  before  he  launch(*d  her  on  the  fresh  world  of 
New  York  and  Chicago.  Lots  of  money  to  be  made  in 
New  York  and  Chicago!  Once  get  her  well  across  the 
Atlantic  in  a  White  Star  Liner,  and  all  would  be  changed ; 


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she'd  soon  forget  Will  in  the  new  free  life  of  that  Western 
Golconda. 

To  enlist  the  Church  on  his  side  was  therefore  Andreas 
Hausberger's  first  and  chief  endeavor.  With  this  object 
in  view,  he  took  the  unwonted  step  of  confessing  himself 
in  due  form  to  the  priest  of  the  pro-Cathedral  the  very  day 
after  Linnet  left  him.  'Twas  a  well-timed  confession. 
Andreas  admitted  to  the  full  his  own  misconduct — ad- 
mitted it  with  a  most  exemplary  and  edifying  show  of 
masculine  contrition.  But  then  he  went  on  to  point  out 
to  the  priest  that  between  his  wife's  case  and  his  there  was 
a  great  gulf  fixed,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical vision.  He  had  sinned,  it  was  true,  and  deserved  re- 
prehension ;  but  he  was  anxious,  all  the  same,  to  remain 
in  close  union  as  ever  with  his  wife,  to  admit  the  obligation 
and  sanctity  of  the  sacrament.  Frau  Hausberger,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  left  his  hearth  and  home,  and  seemed 
now  on  the  very  point  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  here- 
tics, who  might  persuade  her  to  accept  the  dissolving  ver- 
dict of  a  mere  earthly  court,  and  to  marry  again  during 
her  husband's  lifetime,  in  open  defiance  of  the  Church's  au- 
thority. Her  soul  was  thus  placed  in  very  serious  jeop- 
ardy. If  she  continued  to  remain  with  Will  or  with  Will's 
friends,  and  if  they  over-persuaded  her  to  obtain  a  divorce, 
she  would  become  a  Protestant,  or  at  any  rate  would  enter 
into  an  irregular  union  which  no  Catholic  could  regard  as 
anything  other  than  legalized  adultery. 

The  justness  and  soundness  of  Herr  Hausberger's  views 
deeply  impressed  the  candid  mind  o^  his  confessor.  It 
is  pleasant  indeed,  in  these  degenerate  days,  to  find  a  lay- 
man who  so  thoroughly  enters  into  the  Church's  idea  as  to 
the  obligation  of  the  sacrament.  Moreover,  to  let  a  well- 
known  lamb  of  his  flock  thus  stray  from  the  fold  before  the 
eyes  of  all  Europe — and  on  such  a  question — the  confessor 
saw  well  would  be  a  serious  calamity.  Indeed  the  Church 
had  somewhat  prided  itself  in  its  way  on  Signora  Casal- 
monte.  It  had  pointed  to  her  more  than  once  as  a  con- 
spicuous example  of  pure  Catholic  life  under  trying  cir- 
cumstances. A  Tyrolese  peasant-girl,  brought  up  in  a 
country  where  Catholic  influences  still  bear  undisputed 
sway,  and  transplanted  to  the  most  dangerous  and  least 
approved  of  professions,  she  had  comported  herself  on  the 


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til",  .ij- 
ill 


stage,  in  spite  of  every  temptation,  with  conspicuous  mod- 
esty and  religious  feeling.  Beautiful,  graceful,  much  ad- 
mired, much  sought  after  in  all  the  capitals  of  Europe, 
she  had  resisted  the  many  snares  that  beset  a  singer's  ca- 
reer, and  had  shown  a  singular  instance  of  pure  domestic 
life  in  a  sphere  where  such  life  is,  alas,  too  uncommon. 
So  much  could  the  lessons  of  the  Church  effect ;  so  great 
was  the  lasting  power  of  early  Catholic  influences. 

And  now,  if  they  must  eat  their  own  words  publicly, 
and  go  back  on  their  own  encomiums,  if  Linnet,  on  whom 
they  had  prided  themselves  as  a  shining  example  of  tlic 
success  of  their  method,  was  to  go  off  before  the  eyes  of  all 
the  world  with  a  non-Catholic  poet — worse  still,  if  she  was 
to  fly  in  the  face  of  their  most  cherished  principles,  and 
request  a  divorce  at  the  hands  of  purely  secular  judges, 
Catholicism  itself  would  receive  a  serious  blow  in  the  eyes 
of  many  doubtful  or  wavering  adherents.  A  person  like 
the  Casalmonte  commands  public  attention.  Of  course, 
if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  it  would  be  easy  enough 
for  the  Cb  xh  to  disown  her;  easy  enough  to  remark, 
with  a  casual  little  sneer,  that  Rome  had  never  approved 
of  the  theatrical  profession — above  all,  for  women.  Still. 
it  is  a  good  pastor's  duty,  if  possible,  to  save,  above  all 
things,  the  souls  of  his  flock ;  and  the  first  thing  to  do,  it 
was  clear,  the  confessor  thought,  was  to  bring  the  Casal- 
monte back  again  into  subjection  to  her  own  husband. 
They  must  strain  every  nerve  to  prevent  her  obtaining  or 
even  demanding  a  divorce ;  they  must  strive,  if  they  could, 
to  obviate  a  gross  and  open  scandal. 

Actuated  by  such  motives,  and  by  many  others  of  a 
more  technical  character,  the  confessor,  after  some  demur, 
consented  at  last  to  the  somewhat  unusual  course  of  calling 
upon  the  lost  lamb,  if  her  whereabouts  could  be  found,  and 
endeavoring  to  save  her  either  from  open  sin  or  still  more 
open  rebellion.  As  soon  as  he  learned  she  hadn't  gone  off 
with  Will  Deverill,  but  was  quietly  staying  with  a  wealtliy 
American  lady,  an  intimate  friend  of  her  suspected  lover's, 
the  priest  made  up  his  sapient  mind  at  once  this  meant  a 
determination  to  seek  a  divorce,  which  "^ust  instantly  be 
combated  by  every  means  in  his  power.  So  he  worked 
upon  Linnet's  susceptible  Southern  nature  by  striking  suc- 
cessively all  the  profoundest  chords  of  religion,  shame, 


li-i^ 


E  IH 


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355 


penitence,  remorse,  and  terror.  He  appalled  her  with  the 
authoritative  voice  of  the  Clnirch ;  he  convicted  her  of 
sin;  he  overawed  her  with  the  mysterious  sanctity  of  a 
divine  sacrament.  Before  he  had  finished  his  harangue, 
Linnet  crouched  and  cowered  in  abject  fear  before  him. 
She  loved  Will  with  all  her  heart:  she  would  always  love 
him;  she  hated  Andreas  with  all  her  soul:  she  couldn't 
help  but  hate  him.  Still,  if  God  and  the  Church  so  or- 
dained, she  would  follow  that  man  she  hated,  till  death 
them  did  part;  she  would  forsake  that  man  she  loved, 
though  her  heart  broke  with  love  for  him. 

Andreas  seized  his  opportunity;  he  struck  while  the 
iron  was  lot.  His  brougham  was  at  the  door ;  he  had 
sent  their  luggage  on  to  Charing  Cross  before  him.  In 
haste  and  trembling,  he  hurried  Linnet  away,  hardly  even 
waiting  for  Ellen  to  bring  down  the  portmanteau  with  her 
jewellery  and  necessaries.  They  drove  straight  to  Charing 
Cross,  and  took  the  Club  train  southwards.  That  night 
they  spent  in  Paris.  Linnet,  heart-broken  but  calm,  in- 
sisted on  separate  rooms ;  for  that,  at  least,  she  must 
stipulate ;  she  would  follow  him,  she  said,  as  the  Church  di- 
rected, to  the  bitter  end,  but  never  again  while  he  lived 
sliould  he  dare  to  lay  those  heavy  hands  of  his  upon  her. 
Next  morning,  they  took  the  early  express  to  Innsbruck, 
via  Zurich  and  the  Vorarlberg.  Two  evenings  later,  they 
sat  together  at  St.  Valentin. 

How  strange  it  all  seemed  to  her  now,  that  familiar 
old  world  of  her  own  native  Tyrol !  Everything  was 
there,  just  as  of  yore,  to  be  sure — land,  people,  villages — 
but  oh,  how  small,  how  petty,  how  mean,  how  shrunken! 
St  Valentin  had  dwindled  down  to  a  mere  collection  of 
farm-houses ;  the  church,  whose  green  steeple  once  looked 
so  tall  and  great,  had  grown  short  and  stumpy  and  odd 
and  squalid-looking;  the  IVirthshans,  that  once  prosperous 
and  commodious  inn,  seemed  in  her  eyes  to-day  a  mere 
fourth-rate  little  simple  country  tavern.  To  all  of  us, 
when  we  revisit  well-known  scenes  of  our  childhood,  space 
seems  to  have  shrunk,  the  world  to  have  grown  smaller 
and  meaner  and  uglier.  But  to  Linnet,  the  change  seemed 
even  greater  than  to  most  of  us.  She  had  been  taken 
straight  away  from  that  petty  hamlet,  and  elevated  with 
surprising  rapidity  into  European  fame — a  popular  favor- 


3S6 


LINNET 


ite  of  Milan  and  Naples,  Rome  and  Paris,  Munich  and 
Brussels,  London  and  Vienna.  The  break  in  her  life  had 
been  sudden  and  enormous ;  she  had  passed  at  once,  as  it 
were,  from  the  village  inn  to  the  courts  of  kings  and  the 
adulation  of  great  cities.  And  now,  when  she  came  back 
again,  all  was  blank  and  dreary.  The  dear  mother  was 
dead ;  Will  Deverill  was  away,  and  she  might  not  see  him ; 
the  Herr  Vicar  turned  out  a  greasy,  frowsy  Austrian  parisii 
priest;  Cousin  Fridolin  had  a  fat  wife  and  two  dirty-laccd 
babies.  The  poetry  seemed  to  have  faded  out  of  the  Tyrol 
she  once  knew ;  the  very  cow-bells  rang  harsh — and  Will 
Deverill,  who  could  make  music  of  them,  was  away  over  in 
London. 

Only  Nature  itself  remained  to  console  her.  And  An- 
dreas in  his  wisdom  allowed  her  to  commune  much  with 
Nature.  The  eternal  hills  had  still  some  slight  balm  for 
her  wounded  spirit.  Linnet  and  her  husband  stopped  as 
guests  at  the  IVirthshatis;  it  was  Andreas's  still,  but  he 
had  let  it  to  Cousin  Fridolin.  In  the  morning,  after  Lin- 
net had  gulped  down  the  coffee  and  roll  that  seemed  to 
half  choke  her,  she  would  stroll  up  the  hill  behind  the  vil- 
lage inn,  and  sit  on  the  boulders,  just  above  the  belt  of 
pine  wood,  where  she  had  sat  long  ago  hand  in  hand  with 
Will  Deverill.  The  village  children  sometimes  came  and 
gazed  at  her.  and  whispered  to  one  another  in  an  awe- 
struck undertone  how  this  was  Lina  Tesler,  who  once 
minded  cows  in  a  chalet  on  the  Alps,  and  who  was  now 
the  Casalmonte,  a  great,  rich  singer  in  England,  with  dia- 
monds in  her  box.  and  grand  rings  on  her  fingers.  Lin- 
net dressed  very  simply  for  this  mountain  life,  and  tried  to 
seem  the  same  as  of  yore  to  Cousin  Fridolin,  and  the  priest. 
and  the  good  old  neighbors:  but,  ah  me,  how  changed 
was  the  world  of  the  Tyrol !  And  how  curious  it  seemed 
to  hear  the  same  familiar  chatter  still  running  on  about 
the  same  old  gossips,  the  same  petty  jealousies,  the  same 
narrow  hopes,  and  fears,  and  ideals,  when  she  herself  had 
passed  through  so  much,  meanwhile — had  known  other 
men,  new  ideas,  strange  cities ! 

So  for  a  fortnight.  Linnet  lived  on,  scarcely  speaking 
to  Andreas,  but  sitting  by  herself  on  those  springtide  hills, 
where  the  globe-flowers  scattered  gold  with  a  stintless  hand 
and  the  orchids  empurpled  whole  wide  tracts  of  the  mead- 


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ows.  She  sat  there — and  thought  of  Will — and  obeyed 
the  Church — and  followed  Andreas.  Yet,  oh,  how  strange 
that  God  and  our  hearts  should  be  thus  at  open  war !  that 
Nature  should  tell  us  one  thing  and  the  Church  another ! 
'Twas  a  consequence  of  the  Fall  of  Man,  the  Herr  Vicar 
assured  her ;  for  the  heart,  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked.  And  it  was  desperately 
wicked  of  her,  no  doubt,  to  think  so  much  about  Will ;  but 
there — Church  or  no  Church,  Linnet  couldn't  help  think- 
ing of  him. 

She  was  resigned,  in  a  way ;  very  much  resigned ;  her 
heart  had  been  crushed  once  for  all  when  she  married 
Andreas.  It  had  flared  up  in  fitful  flicker  of  open  re- 
bellion when  she  left  his  house  and  flung  herself  fiercely 
on  Will  Deverill's  bosom ;  and  then — Will  himself  had 
bruised  the  broken  reed,  had  quenched  the  smoking  flax, 
and  sent  her  away  hurt,  bleeding,  and  humiliated.  He 
did  it  for  her  own  sake,  she  knew,  but,  oh,  she  would  have 
loved  him  better  if  he'd  been  a  little  less  thoughtful  for  her, 
less  noble,  less  generous!  Loved  him  better?  Oh  no; 
to  love  him  better  would  be  impossible !  But  they  would 
both  have  been  happier,  with  ti":e  world  well  lost,  and 
present  love  for  the  reward  of  Paradise  closed  to  them 
hereafter. 

Purgatory?  Ah  what  did  she  care  for  their  purgatory 
now !  To  count  one  year  of  love  fulfilled  with  Will,  she 
would  gladly  give  her  poor  body  to  be  burnt  in  burning 
hell  for  ever  and  ever.  It  was  the  Church  that  intervened 
to  prevent  it,  not  she ;  for  herself,  she  was  Will's  ;  she  could 
live  for  him,  she  could  die  for  him,  she  could  lose  her 
own  soul  for  him. 

She  never  said  a  word  to  Cousin  Fridolin  and  his  wife, 
or  to  the  people  of  St.  Valentin,  of  her  relations  with  An- 
dreas. Still,  the  villagers  guessed  them  all.  Simple  vil- 
lagers know  more  of  the  world  than  we  reckon.  She  was 
rich,  she  was  grand,  they  said,  since  she'd  married  the 
Wirth,  and  become  a  great  lady:  but  she  wasn't  happy 
with  Herr  Andreas ;  he  was  cold  and  unkind  to  her.  Those 
marks  on  her  little  wrists — they  were  surely  the  impress  of 
Herr  Andreas's  big  fingers ;  those  red  eyes,  that  pale  face 
— they  were  surely  the  result  of  Herr  Andreas's  infideli- 
ties.   Money,  after  all,  isn't  everything  in  this  world :  Lina 


Mil 


.!   , 


m 


W 


m. 


358 


LINNET 


Telser  had  diamonds  and  pearls  at  command,  and  she 
drank  fine  red  wine,  specially  brought  from  Innsbruck ;  but 
she  would  have  been  happier,  people  thought  at  St.  Valen- 
tin in  the  Zillerthal,  if  she'd  married  Cousin  Fridolin,  or 
even  Franz  Lindner! 


M 


CHAPTER  XLVIl 


SEEMINGLY    UNCONNECTED 


Franz  Lindner!  And  how  was  Franz  Lindner  en- 
gaged during  these  stormy  days?  He  was  working  out  by 
degrees  his  own  scheme  in  hfe  for  making  himself  rich, 
and  so,  as  he  thought,  acceptable  to  Linnet. 

With  great  difficuUy,  partly  by  saving  and  hoarding 
with  Tyrolese  frugalit;-,  partly  by  rare  good  luck  in  fol- 
lowing a  fortunate  tip  for  last  autumn's  Cesarewitch, 
Franz  had  scraped  together  at  last  the  five  hundred  pounds 
which  he  required  for  working  his  "  system  "  at  Monte 
Carlo.  The  royal  road  to  wealth  now  lay  open  before  him. 
So  he  started  blithely  fram  Victoiia  one  bright  spring 
morning,  bound  southward  straight  through  by  the  rapidc 
to  Nice,  with  his  heart  on  fire,  and  his  capital  in  good 
Bark  of  England  notes  in  his  pocket.  He  meant  to  stop 
at  Nice,  not  at  Monte  Carlo  itself,  because  he  was  advised 
that  living  was  cheaper  in  the  larger  town,  and  Franz, 
being  a  Tyroler,  reflected  with  prudence  that  even  when 
one's  going  to  win  twenty  thousand  pounds,  ii's  best  to  be 
careful  in  the  matter  of  expenditure  till  one's  sure  one's  got 
them. 

At  Calais,  be  found  a  place  in  the  through  carriage  for 
the  Riviera.  With  great  presence  of  mind,  indeed,  he  se- 
cured a  corner  seat  by  pushing  in  hastily  past  a  fumbling 
old  lady  with  an  invalid  daughter.  The  opposite  corner 
was  already  occupied  by  a  handsome  man — tall,  big-built, 
rather  dark,  with  brilliant  black  eyes,  and  abundant  curly 
hair,  of  somewhat  southern  aspect.  As  Franz  entered 
the  carriage,  the  stranger  scanned  him.  casually,  with  an 
observant  glance.  He  had  the  air  of  a  gentleman  this 
stranger,  but  he  was  affable  for  all  that;  he  entered  into 
conversation  very  readily  with  Franz,  first  in  English,  then 
more  fully  in  German,  which  latter  tongue  he  spoke  quite 
fluently.     Part  of  his  education  had  been  acquired  at  Hei- 

359 


360 


LINNET 


V  ■ 


delberg,  he  said  in  explanation,  before  he  went  to  Oxford ; 
'twas  there  he  had  picked  up  his  perfect  mastery  of  German 
idiom.  As  a  matter  of  fact;  he  had  picked  it  up  rather  by 
mixing  with  Jewish  shop-boys  from  Frankfort  in  Denver 
City,  Colorado;  for  the  stranger  was  no  other  than  Mr. 
Joaquin  Holmes,  the  Psycho-physical  Entertainer,  flying 
southward  to  restore  his  fallen  fortunes  at  Monte  Carlo. 

Fate  had  used  ner  Seer  rather  badly  of  late.  His  fail- 
ure to  sell  Andreas's  letter  to  Linnet  was  the  last  straw 
that  broke  the  camel's  back  of  Mr.  Holmes's  probity. 
Thought-reading  had  by  this  time  gone  quite  out  of  fash- 
ion ;  Theosophy  and  occult  science  were  now  all  in  the  as- 
cendant. There  were  no  more  dollars  to  be  made  any 
longer  out  of  odic  force ;  so  Mr.  Holmes  was  compelled 
by  adverse  circumstances,  very  much  against  his  will,  to 
take  refuge  at  last  in  his  alternative  and  less  reputable 
profession  of  card-sharper.  With  that  end  in  view,  he 
was  now  on  his  way  to  the  Capital  of  Change  in  the  Princi- 
pality of  Monaco.  Where  gamblers  most  do  congregate 
is  naturally  the  place  for  a  dexterous  manipulator  of  the 
pack  to  make  his  fortune.  Mr.  Holmes  was  somewhat 
changed  in  minor  detail  as  to  his  outer  man,  in  order  to 
avoid  too  general  recognition.  His  hair  was  cut  shorter: 
his  beard  was  cut  sharper ;  his  moustache — a  hard  wrench 
— was  altogether  shaved  oflf ;  and  sundry  alterations  in  his 
mode  of  dress,  especially  the  addition  of  a  most  unneces- 
sary pincc-nc:,  had  transformed  him,  in  part,  from  the 
aspect  of  a  keen  and  piercing  Transatlantic  thought-reader 
to  that  of  a  guileless  English  mercantile  gentleman.  But 
his  vivid  black  eyes  were  still  sharp  and  eager  and  shifty 
as  ever ;  his  denuded  mouth,  now  uncovered  at  the  corners, 
showed  still  more  of  a  cynical  smile  than  before ;  and  h's 
complete  expression  was  one  of  mingled  astuteness  and 
deferential  benevolence — the  former,  native  to  his  face, 
the  latter,  by  long  use,  diligently  trained  and  cultivated. 

Before  they  reached  Paris,  Seer  and  singer  had  put 
themselves  on  excellent  terms  with  one  another.  They 
had  even  exchanged  names  in  a  friendly  way.  the  Seer  giv- 
ing his,  for  obvious  reasons,  as  plain  Mr.  Holmes,  without 
the  distinguisning  Joaquin;  it  was  safer  so;  there  are 
plenty  of  Holmeses  scattered  about  through  the  world, 


-  >  1  i  It  1 


SEEMINGLY  UNCONNECTED 


361 


Oxford ; 
f  German 

rather  by 
n  Denver 
than  Mr. 
er,  flying 
ite  Carlo. 

His  fail- 
ast  straw 
;  probity, 
t  of  fash- 
in  the  as- 
made  any 
compelled 
is  will,  to 

reputable 

view,  he 
he  Princi- 
:ongregate 
tor  of  the 
somewhat 
n  order  to 
It  shorter; 
,rd  wrench 
ions  in  his 
,t  unneces- 

from  the 
ght-reader 
nan.  But 
and  shifty 
lie  corners, 
e ;  and  h's 
tcness  and 
)  his  face, 
cultivated, 
r  had  put 
ler.  They 
e  Seer  giv- 
es, without 

there  are 
the  world, 


and  the  name's  not  compromising;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  if  any  London  acquaintance  chanced  to  come  up 
and  call  him  by  it,  such  initial  frankness  avoided  compli- 
cations. Franz  Lindner,  more  cautious  and  less  wise  in  his 
way,  gave  his  name  unblushingly  as  Karl  von  Forstemann, 
a  Vienna  proprietor,  out  of  pure  foolish  secretiveness.  He 
had  no  reason  for  changing  his  ordinary  style  and  title,  ex- 
cept that  he  wished  to  be  taken  at  Monte  Carlo  for  an  Aus- 
trian gentleman,  not  a  music-hall  minstrel.  The  Seer  smiled 
blandly  at  the  transparent  lie ;  Franz's  accent  and  manner 
no  more  resembled  those  of  a  Viennese  Junker  than  his 
staring  tweed  suit  and  sky-blue  tie  resembled  the  costume 
0^  an  English  gentleman. 

However,  the  prudent  Seer  reflected  immediately  to  him- 
self that  this  sort  was  created  for  his  especial  benefit.  Be- 
hold, a  pigeon !  He  was  even  more  affable  than  usual  on 
that  very  account  to  Herr  Karl  von  Forstemann.  He 
offered  him  brandy  out  of  his  Russia-leather  covered 
flask ;  he  invited  him  to  share  his  anchovy  sandwiches ; 
he  regretted  there  was  no  smoking  compartment  on  the 
through  carriage  for  Mentone,  or  he  might  have  intro- 
duced his  new  friend  to  a  very  choice  brand  of  fragrant 
Havana.  Going  to  Cannes?  or  San  Remo?  Ah,  Nice! 
that  was  capital.  They'd  travel  together  all  night  then, 
without  change  of  companions,  for  he  himself  was  going 
on  straight  through  to  Monte  Carlo. 

At  that  charmed  name,  which  the  Seer  pronounced  with 
a  keenly  cautious  side-glance,  Franz  pricked  up  his  cars. 
Monte  Carlo!  ach,  so?  really?  Did  he  play,  then?  The 
cautious  Seer  smiled  a  deep  and  wary  smile  of  consum- 
mate self-restraint.  Play?  no,  not  he;  the  Casino  was 
rubbish :  he  went  there  for  the  scenery,  the  music,  the  at- 
tractions. Occasionally  of  an  evening,  to  be  sure,  he 
might  just  drop  into  the  Rooms  to  observe  what  was  hap- 
pening. H  a  run  of  luck  came  on  any  particular  color — 
or  number  or  series,  as  the  case  might  be — now  and  again 
he  would  back  it — once  in  a  week  or  a  blue  moon — for  pure 
amusement.  But  as  to  making  money  at  it — bah,  bah, 
what  puerile  nonsense!  With  odds  on  the  bank — one 
chance  in  thirty-six — no  scientific  player  could  reg?rd  it  in 
that  light   for  one  moment.    As  excitement — '*  1   grant 


362 


LINNET 


Iff 


m^ 


m: 


i 


you,  yes,  all  very  well;  one  got  one's  fun  for  one's  louis: 
but  as  speculation,  investment,  trial  for  luck— if  it  came  to 
that — why,  everybody  knew  it  was  all  pure  mrxmsliine. 

Franz  listened  with  a  smile,  and  looked  preternaturaiiy 
cunning.  That  was  all  very  well  in  its  way.  he  said,  with 
a  sphinx-like  face — for  the  general  public;  but  he  had  a 
System. 

The  Seer's  eye  was  grave ;  the  Seer's  face  was  solemn ; 
only  about  the  corners  of  his  imperturbable  mouth  could  a 
faint  curl  have  betrayed  his  inner  feelings  to  the  keenest 
observer.  A  System!  oh,  well,  of  course,  that  was  alto- 
gether different.  No  one  knew  what  a  clever  and  compe- 
tent mathematician  might  do  with  a  System.  Though, 
mark  you,  mathematicians  had  devised  the  tables,  too; 
they  had  carefully  arranged  so  that  no  possible  combina- 
tion could  avoid  the  extra  chances  which  the  bank  reserved 
to  itself.  Ho./ever,  experience — experience  is  the  only 
solid  guide  in  these  matters.  Let  him  try  his  System,  by 
all  means;  and  if  it  worked — with  stress  on  that  if — Mr. 
Holmes  would  be  glad  for  his  own  part  to  adopt  it.  If 
it  didn't  he  could  show  him  a  trick  worth  two  of  that — 
a  game  where  the  players  stood  at  even  chances,  with  no 
rapacious  bank  to  earn  a  splendid  dividend  and  pay  roy- 
ally for  the  maintenance  of  a  palatial  establishment.  And 
with  that,  1"  acked  himself  up  and  subsided  into  his  cor- 
ner. 

All  night  through,  on  their  way  to  Marseilles,  they  slept 
or  dozed  at  intervals — and  then  woke  up  once  more  to 
discuss  by  fits  and  starts  that  enthralling  subject  of  win- 
ning at  Monte  Carlo.  The  fumbling  old  lady  and  her  in- 
valid daughter,  propped  upright  in  the  middle  seats,  got 
no  sleep  to  speak  of,  with  their  perpetual  chatter.  Be- 
fore morning,  the  two  men  were  excellent  friends  with  one 
another.  Franz  liked  Mr.  Holmes.  He  was  a  jolly,  out- 
spoken, good-natured  gentleman,  very  kindly  and  well- 
disposed,  and  he  recommended  him  to  a  good  cheap  hotel 
at  Nice,  lying  handy  to  the  station,  for  a  man  who  wanted 
to  run  over  pretty  often  to  Monte  Carlo.  Franz  went 
there  as  he  was  bid,  and  found  it  not  amiss ;  'twas  pleasant, 
after  so  long  a  stay  in  EnH^-iul.  to  discover  himself  once 
more  amongst  compat: iots,  <r:  i.v  .1  door — to  talk  in  his 
native  tongue  with  SwioS  5  orter,;.,   ii^wiss  waiters,  Swiss 


SEEMINGLY  UNCONNECTED 


363 


boots,  and  Swiss  cliamlurinaids.  With  the  great  bare 
mountains  rising  ahrnptly  in  the  rear,  Nice  ahnost  seemed 
to  him  liki-  his  hcloverl  Fatiierland.  'JMie  strange  longing 
foi  home  which  is  peculiar  to  mountaineers  came  over  him 
with  a  rush  at  sight  of  their  lonely  summits.  .Icli,  Gott, — 
if  it  weren't  that  he  had  his  fortune  to  make  at  Alonte 
Carlo,  he'd  have  gone  on,  then  and  there,  straight  through 
to  St.  Valentin! 

That  first  evening,  he  rested  after  the  fatigues  of  the 
journey.  He  merely  strolled  about  on  the  I'romenades 
des  Anglais,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  and  lounged  along 
the  Quays  or  through  the  Public  Garden.  It  was  a  fine 
town,  Nice,  and  Franz  was  very  much  pleased  with  it. 
He  had  given  his  name  at  the  hotel  as  Herr  Karl  von 
Forstemann,  a  gentleman  from  Vienna ;  and  as  he  saun- 
tered along  now  through  that  gay  little  city,  with  five 
hundred  pounds  sterling  in  his  trousers  pocket,  and 
twenty  thousand  awaiting  him  in  the  bank  at  Monte  Carlo, 
he  felt  for  the  moment  like  the  person  he  called  himself. 
His  strut  w^as  still  prouder  and  more  jaunty  than  ever; 
he  stared  at  the  pretty  girls  under  the  palm-trees  of  the 
parade  as  if  they  all  belonged  to  him ;  he  twirled  his  short 
cane  by  the  arcades  of  the  Place  iViassena  with  a  million- 
aire swagger.  After  all,  it's  easy  as  dirt  to  win  thousands 
at  roulette — if  only  you  have  a  System.  Strange  how  peo- 
ple will  toil,  and  moil,  and  slave,  iind  save,  at  a  desk  in 
London,  when,  here  by  this  l)asking  tideless  Southern  sea, 
this  Tom  Tiddler's  ground  of  fortune,  they  might  pick  up 
coin  at  will  just  as  one  picks  up  pebbles! 

Franz  broke  a  bottle  of  champagne  at  ten  oVk^k,  dis- 
continuing his  success,  with  two  awfully  jolly  fellows  he'd 
come  across  in  the  smoking-room.  Nice  seemed  to  be  just 
cram-full  of  awfully  jolly  fellows!  Then  he  went  to  bed 
early,  and  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  till  morning.  After  a 
cup  of  fragrant  coiYee  and  a  fresh  French  roll — so  unlike 
that  bad  bread  man  gets  in  London — he  lounged  over  to 
the  station,  and  took  a  first-class  return  to  Monte  Carlo. 
Oh,  that  exquisite  journey!  How  bright  it  was,  how 
sweet,  how  fairy-fair,  how  beautiful!  Like  all  Tyrolese, 
t'ranz  Lindner  was  by  no  means  insensible  to  the 
charms  of  Nature;  and  that  man  must  be  blind  and 
seared  and  dull     ..'eed  who  wouldn't  gaze  with  hushed 


3^4 


LINNET 


delight,  the  first  time  he  sji  v  them,  on  those  endless  blue 
bays,  those  craggy  cliffs,  tliose  towering  heights,  those 
jagged  precipices.  Villefranche,  with  its  two  promon- 
tories and  its  quaint  white  town;  the  Cap  Ferrat  and  its 
twin  lighthouses;  the  peninsula  of  St.  Jean,  with  its  in- 
dented outline ;  the  great  bluffs  of  Beaulieu ;  the  tunnelled 
headlands  of  the  coast;  green  water  breaking  white  on 
tumbled  masses  in  the  sea;  Eza,  perched  high  on  its  pin- 
nacle of  rearing  rock ;  the  bastions  of  Monaco,  rising  sheer 
like  some  basking  whale  from  the  purple  waves  beneath; 
the  hanging  gardens  of  La  Condamine,  the  bare  moun- 
tains in  the  background:  Franz  drank  them  all  in  with 
delight  and  enthusiasm.  But  all  only  sharpened  his  zest 
for  the  game  he  had  in  view ;  what  an  enchanted  tract  of 
coast  it  was,  to  be  sure,  this  land  that  led  him  up  to  the 
Palace  of  Luck,  where  he  was  to  woo  and  win  his  twenty 
thousand  pounds  sterling! 

He  wouldn't  leave  off  till  he  had  won  it,  every  penny; 
on  that  he  was  determined.  None  of  your  beggarly  ten 
or  fifteen  thousands  for  him !  Twenty  thousand  pounds 
down  was  the  goal  he  set  before  him.  After  that — well, 
who  knows?  He  might  perhaps  stop  .  .  .  or — why  this 
moderation? — he  might  perhaps  go  on,  if  he  chose,  and 
double  it. 

In  such  heroic  mood,  like  a  winner  already,  Franz 
mounted  the  broad  steps  of  the  great  white  Casino.  Its 
magnificence  for  a  moment  abashed  and  daunted  him.  He 
had  never  yet  entered  so  splendid  a  building;  never  trod 
so  fine  a  room  as  that  gorgeous  atrium.  However,  he  re- 
flected next  instant  that  he  came  there  that  day  armed 
with  the  passport  which  makes  a  man  welcome  wherever 
he  may  go  the  wide  world  over — the  talismanic  passport 
of  money  in  his  pocket.  Regaining  his  usual  swagger  as 
he  mounted  the  steps,  he  followed  the  crowd  into  the  of- 
fice where  cards  of  admission  v\'ere  .issued,  and  gave  his 
name  boldly  once  more,  in  a  very  firm  voice,  as  Herr  von 
Forstemann  of  Vienna.  Then,  provided  with  the  neces- 
sary pasteboard  which  ensures  admission  to  the  rooms,  he 
still  followed  the  stream  into  the  vast,  garish  hall  whicli 
contains  the  gaming  tables.  Its  size  and  its  gorgeous 
ness  fairly  took  the  man's  breath  away.  Though  the  hour 
vva§  still  early,  as  Fraiii  jiow  reckoned  time  in  his  cos- 


ii'^ 


SEEMINGLY  UNCONNECTED 


365 


mopoHtanized  avatar,  he  was  surprised  to  find  so  immense 
a  crowd  of  players  gathered  in  deep  rows  round  table  after 
table,  opening  into  long  perspective  of  saloon  after  saloon 
in  the  farther  distance.  He  drew  up  to  the  first  roulette- 
board,  and  watched  the  play  carefully  for  several  minutes. 
Though  he  had  studied  the  subject  beforehand  with  books 
and  diagrams,  and  had  made  sure,  as  he  tiiought,  of  the 
truth  of  his  System  by  frequent  imaginary  trials,  it  in- 
terested him  immensely  to  see  at  last  in  real  life,  and  with 
tangible  actors,  the  scene  he  had  so  long  contemplated  in 
his  feverish  day-dreams. 

The  result  was  in  some  ways  distinctly  disappointing. 
He  hadn't  allowed  to  himself  for  so  much  bustle,  so  much 
noise,  so  many  other  players.  In  his  mental  picture,  he 
had  seen  his  own  money  only ;  he  had  staked  and  won, 
staked  and  lost,  staked  and  won  again  incessantly,  while 
couplers  and  bank  existed,  as  it  were,  for  his  sole  use  and 
benefit.  But  here  in  concrete  reality,  many  complicating 
circumstances  arose  to  distract  him.  Other  people  crowd- 
ed round,  row  after  row  in  serried  order,  to  put  on  their 
own  money  without  regard  to  his  presence ;  and  they  put 
it  all  on  in  so  many  incomprehensible  and  ridiculous  ways 
— backing  dozens,  or  fours,  or  pairs,  or  columns,  accord- 
ing to  their  Systems^  which  he  had  never  thought  of — that 
Franz  for  a  stray  minute  or  two  felt  thoroughly  bewil- 
dered. He  almost  lost  his  head.  The  sweet  simplicity  of 
the  little  game  he  had  played  by  himself  on  paper,  against 
a  bank  which  took  no  heed  of  any  stake  but  his,  now 
vanished  utterly ;  in  its  place  came  chaos — a  complex  and 
distracting  phantasmagoria  of  men  and  women  flinging 
down  gold  pieces  at  cross-purposes  on  numbers  and  colors 
sticking  about  their  louis  hap-hazard  in  reckless  con- 
fusion on  first  or  last  dozens ;  raking  in  and  grabbing  up, 
with  eager  hands,  in  hot  haste ;  till  Franz's  brain  began  to 
reel,  and  he  wondered  to  himself,  amid  so  many  rolling 
coins,  how  each  could  tell  at  each  turn  what  had  happened 
to  his  own  money.  In  idea,  he  had  confined  himself  to 
the  System  alone ;  in  practice,  he  found  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  engaged  in  playing  ten  different  games  at  once — 
rouge-et-noir,  passe-et-vianquc,  pair-ct-impair,  and  the 
rest  of  it — with  distracting  rapidity,  at  a  single  table. 

For  a  minute  or  two,  he  watched,  with  cat-like  eyes,  be- 


366 


LINNET 


fore  venturing  to  risk  one  of  his  hard-saved  louis.  But 
presently  the  sequence  of  numbers  and  colors  on  the  board 
reached  a  point  which  appeared  to  him  specially  favorable 
for  his  System.  Trembling  greatly  within,  but  swag- 
gering outwardly  still,  Franz  leaned  over  between  two 
stout  players  who  sat  close  by  in  front  of  him,  and,  edging 
himself  sideways,  passed  through  the  jostling  crowd,  till 
he  had  deposited  twenty-francs  on  rouge,  with  a  beating 
heart.  For  a  minute  he  waited.  Other  people  puc  their 
stakes  unpleasantly  close  to  his;  coins  roJled  in  casually, 
here  and  there,  and  were  fixed  by  the  croupier  with  his 
stick  as  voices  behind  directed.  But  Franz  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  fast  on  his  own  good  louis.  Whr'r'r.  rang  the 
roulette ;  "  Rien  ne  va  plus !  "  cried  the  croupier.  For  a 
second  or  two,  as  the  thing  span,  Franz  felt  his  heart  conic 
up  in  his  mouth  with  anxiety.  The  ball  jumped  out;  his 
quick  eyes  couldn't  follow  it.  Instinctively,  he  kept  them 
fixed  on  his  louis  still.  "  Dix-sept  gagne ;  impair,  rouge, 
manque,"  cried  the  croupier.  A  flush  of  triumph  rose  up 
all  unbidden  on  Franz's  face.  The  System  was  justified 
then !  he  had  won  a  louis ! 

By  his  side,  the  croupier  raked  in  whole  heaps  of  gold 
and  silver.  Then  he  began  to  pay  out ;  here  a  beggarly 
five  francs ;  there,  ten  broad  yellow  pieces.  At  last  he 
came  to  Franz,  and  flung  a  louis  carelessly  by  the  side  of 
the  Tyroler's  stake.  Franz  picked  it  up  with  a  sense  of 
ineffable  triumph.  A  louis  all  at  once!  If  he  went  on 
like  this,  he  would  soon  grow  rich !  Twenty  francs  for  a 
turn  of  the  wheel !  it  was  splendid,  splendid ! 

He  played  again,  and  played  on.  Fortune  favored  the 
beginner.  They  say  'tis  a  trick  of  hers.  The  siren  lures 
you.  Time  and  again,  he  staked  and  won ;  lost  a  little ; 
won  it  back  again.  He  was  five  louis  to  the  good  now- 
eight — six — four — eleven  again.  Then,  for  awhile,  he 
went  up  steadily — twelve,  thirteen,  fourteen,  fifteen,  and 
so  on  to  twenty.  By  that  time,  he  grew  elated.  Why, 
the  System  was  sure  a  royal  road  to  riches.  Lieber  Gott. 
what  fortune!  He'd  begun  by  thinking  of  twenty-franc 
stakes  alone ;  he  doubled  them  now,  putting  down  at  each 
time  two  napoleons  together.  Whr***  went  the  roulette 
afresh;  black  won;  the  inexorable  vaiet  raked  in  his  two 
louis.     Eighteen  to  the  good  now  1  never  mind ;  try  your 


SEEMINGLY  UNCONNECTED 


367 


luck  again !  Bravely  he  adventured  another  forty  francs, 
tliis  time  on  passe — so  the  System  would  have  it.  Twenty- 
two  came  out  as  the  winning  number !  With  joy  and  de- 
light he  saw  his  stake  doubled ;  twenty  to  the  good  once 
more !     Hurrah  !  this  was  splendid ! 

Stop  now!  The  next  coup  demanded  (by  the  System) 
that  he  should  back  a  number — either  twelve  or  twenty- 
four,  as  fancy  dictated.  With  trembling  fingers  he  laid 
down  two  louis  on  twelve.  Once  more,  lortune  favored 
him.  When  he  saw  the  croupier  pay  out  seventy-two  good 
gold  coins  on  top  of  his  own  piece,  Franz  was  almost  be- 
side himself.  He  clutched  thcni  up  hurriedly,  lest  some 
grabber  should  snatch  them,  as  often  happens  at  the  tables. 
While  he  did  so,  he  felt  a  friendly  tap  on  liis  shoulder  from 
behind.  He  looked  round  suddenly.  "  So  your  System 
works  well !  "  a  cheery  voice  exclaimed,  congratulatory. 
Franz  nodded  and  smiled ;  'twas  his  friend,  Mr.  Holmes, 
that  despiser  of  all  Systems. 

For  the  rest  of  that  day,  Mr.  Holmes  hovered  near,  and 
kept  an  eye  on  Franz  quietly.  From  time  to  time,  to  be 
sure,  he  followed  some  loser  outside,  and  disappeared  for 
half-an-hour  in  a  mysterious  way,  after  which  little  inter- 
val he  somehow  always  turned  up  smiling.  But  whenever 
he  came  back  it  was  to  Franz's  side;  and  he  reappeared 
each  time  with  the  self-same  question,  '*  How  much  to  the 
good  now?  been  winning  or  losing?"  And  each  time 
Franz  was  able,  on  the  whole,  in  spite  of  fluctuations,  to  re- 
port progress ; —  seventy  louis,  ninety  three,  a  hundred 
and  one,  a  hundred  and  twenty!  People  about  began  to 
mark  Franz's  play  by  now.  'Twas  another  Mr.  Wells, 
they  said ;  one  would  do  wisely  to  follow  him. 

He  played  till  evening.  About  seven  o'clock,  Holmes 
invited  him  to  dinner  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris.  Franz  strolled 
off,  well  content;  why  shouldn't  he  dine  in  peace?  A 
hundred  and  thirty-four  louis  to  the  good  was  now  the 
reckoning. 

The  affable  stranger  wished  to  stand  champagne.  But 
no  Viennese  gentleman  with  a  Von  to  his  name  could  per- 
mit such  a  reversal  of  the  rules  of  politeness,  when  he  was 
winning  heavily.  Franz  ordered  it  himself — Dry  Mono- 
pole  of  the  best  brand — and  drank  the  larger  half  of  it. 
After  dinner,  thev  hurried  back  to  the  tables  once  more. 


368 


LINNET 


Franz  soon  got  a  seat;  he  was  playing  liigh  enough  now 
for  Monte  Carlo  to  respect  him.  For  in  the  salles  de  jcii 
you  are  respected  in  precise  proportion  to  your  stakes. 
Mr.  Holmt's,  too,  put  down  a  quiet  five-franc  piece  now 
and  again  on  color.  "  Just  like  my  luck !  "  he  exclaimed, 
as  black  turned  up  each  time.  "  Fm  the  unluckiest  dog  at 
games  of  chance,  I  declare,  that  ever  was  born.  I  never 
touch  them,  somehow,  but  I  burn  my  fingers.  There's  a 
fate  in  it,  I  think !  "  And  so  indeed  it  seemed.  He  lost 
every  single  silver  piece  he  adventured. 

But  as  for  Franz,  he  won  steadily.  He  had  advanced 
his  stake,  now,  with  his  advancing  fortunes,  to  five  louis 
a  turn!  When  he  saw  five  louis  go,  he  hardly  even 
noticed  it.  They  came  back  again  so  soon — five,  ten, 
fifteen,  twenty.  Oh,  oh,  but  this  was  royal  sport  indeed! 
Three  hundred  louis  one  minute,  then  down  again  the 
next  to  two  hundred  and  seventy,  and  up  once  more  with 
a  bound  to  two-eighty-five,  two-ninety,  three  hundred. 
Coins  became  as  counters  to  him :  gold  seemed  to  flow  in 
and  flow  out  like  water.  It  was  five  louis  lost,  five  won, 
five  lost  again.  But  as  the  rising  tide  first  advances,  tlien 
recedes,  then  once  more  advances,  so,  in  spite  of  occasional 
temporary  reverses,  the  tide  of  Franz's  fortune  rose  stead- 
ily, steadily.  He  played  on  till  the  croupiers  were  clearing 
the  tables  for  the  night.  When  he  left  off  at  last,  perforce, 
at  the  final  spin,  he  reckoned  to  the  good  three  hundred 
and  twenty-seven  bright  French  gold  piece 


M 


at 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 


THE  BUDULE  I  URSTS 


Complacent  Mr.  Holmes  saw  him  safely  off  by  the 
last  train  to  Nice,  before  retiring  for  the  night  to  his  own 
snug  quarters.  'Tvvas  thus  one  prepares  one's  pigeons 
for  the  plucking.  When  Franz  arrive'  at  the  hotel,  he 
called  for  more  champagne,  to  celebrate  his  victory ;  and, 
failing  other  friends,  share*'  drinks  with  the  waiter. 

Next  morning,  he  was  over  again  at  Monte  Carlo  be- 
times, though  with  a  chastening  headache.  He  got  a 
scat  at  once,  and  sal  down  to  it  like  a  man  who  means  to 
win  a  fortune.  His  experience  of  yestc-day  had  only 
strengthened  his  preconceived  belief  in  the  infallibility  of 
his  System.  Encouraged  by  luck,  he  began  playing  from 
the  outset  now  on  the  basis  of  staking  five  louis  a  time 
on  each  turn  of  the  roulette  wheel.  For  the  first  two  or 
three  twirls,  fortune  still  went  with  him.  He  won  as 
easily  as  he  had  won  the  preceding  evening.  But,  after  a 
few  hazards,  the  chance  began  to  change;  he  lost  once, 
twice,  thrice,  as  quickly  as  he  had  won  at  the  outset  of  his 
playing.  Presently,  he  was  aware  of  Mr.  Holmes  at  his 
side,  watchitig  his  play  with  a  self-restrained  smile  of 
cynical  indifference.  That  smile  put  Franz  Lindner  at 
once  upon  his  mettle.  He  began  to  plunge  desperately. 
Five  louis  on  black ; — they  went  like  water.  Five  louis 
on  manque  were  equally  unsuccessful.  Time  after  time 
Franz  played;  and  time  after  time  he  lost  again.  His 
winnings  had  gone  down  now  to  two  hundred  louis.  He 
began  to  reflect  whether  it  mightn't  be  wise  to  reduce  his 
stake  again  for  a  while,  during  this  run  of  ill-luck,  from 
five  louis  to  two.  He  even  tried  it  once ;  but  a  disapprov- 
ing murmur  from  a  lady  behind  decided  him  to  stick  to 
the  game  he  had  so  far  been  playing.  "  You  should  never 
change  your  stakes,"  she  said,  *'  when  you're  losing,  you 
know ;  it's  an  insult  to  chance,  and  it  brings  bad  luck  with 

369 


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LINNET 


it."  Franz  was  too  good  a  Tyroler  not  to  be  thoroughly 
superstitious ;  so  he  accepted  the  bystander's  disinterested 
advice,  and  continued  to  put  down  his  five  gold  pieces. 

But  still,  luck  was  hard.  If  it's  easy  to  win  three  hun- 
dred pounds  at  a  go,  it's  easier  still  to  lose  them.  And 
yet,  Franz  felt  sure  that,  sooner  or  later,  the  System  must 
win ;  the  System  was  infallible ;  his  friend  the  betting  man 
had  made  all  that  so  clear  to  him.  Recklessly  and  des- 
perately he  hurried  on  with  his  game — five  louis,  five 
louis,  five  Icuis  once  more — lost,  lost,  lost,  lost — till  he 
was  sick  and  tired  of  it.  Now  and  again,  luck  varied,  to 
be  sure,  for  a  tim.e  as  it  liad  varied  yesterday ;  but  while 
yesterday  with  minor  fluctuations  it  steadily  rose,  to-day 
with  minor  fluctuations  it  as  steadily  fell  again.  By  two 
o'clock  that  afternoon,  he  had  lost  the  whole  of  his  last 
night's  winnings,  and  was  reduced  once  more  to  his 
original  capital. 

He  was  going  to  stake  yet  again,  somewhat  haggard 
and  feverish,  when  Joaquin  Holmes,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing him  with  the  profoundest  interest,  tapped  him  lightly 
on  the  arm  and  invited  him  to  luncheon.  "  You  want 
food,"  he  said  " — and  wine.  After  a  good  glass  of 
Mumm,  you'll  play  better  and  stronger  again !  "  In  the 
altered  state  of  the  money-market,  Franz  felt  himself  less 
punctilious  on  the  score  of  treats  than  the  day  before ;  he 
accepted  the  lunch,  and  the  offer  of  champagne,  with  de- 
spondent alacrity.  The  Seer,  ever  prudent,  stood  a  bottle 
of  the  best  wine  the  cellar  of  the  Hotel  de  Paris  could 
produce.  It  was  excellent  and  invigorating.  As  lunch 
proceeded,  Franz's  spirits  returned;  the  champagne  sup- 
plied him  with  fresh  sinews  of  war — Dutch  courage  for 
the  onset.  "  If  I  were  you,  Von  Forstemann,"  the  Seer 
said  in  his  friendliest  and  most  insinuating  tone,  "  I 
wouldn't  play  any  more.  You're  sure  to  lose  in  the  end 
by  it."  But  Franz  stood  by  his  colors.  "  Ah,  no,"  he 
answered,  smiling,  "  I  can't  lose.  I've  got  a  System.  It's 
been  tried  before.  A  friend  of  mine,  do  you  know,  made 
twenty  thousand  pounds  in  these  very  rooms  by  it. 

Flushed  and  fired  by  his  wine,  he  went  back  to  the 
tables.  The  Seer  paid  the  bill  for  their  lunch,  and  fol- 
lowed him.  Franz  had  found  another  seat,  and  was  deep 
in  his  play.    But  he  lost,  lost,  lost — won  a  little — then 


THE  BUBBLE  BURSTS 


371 


;  thoroughly 
disinterested 
pieces. 
1  three  hun- 
them.  And 
system  must 
betting  man 
dy  and  des- 
:  louis,  five 
lost— till  he 
:k  varied,  to 
r;  but  while 
rose,  to-day 
in.  By  two 
:  of  his  last 
nore   to   his 

lat  haggard 
been  watch- 
him  lighdy 
"  You  want 
)d  glass  of 
1 !  "  In  the 
himself  less 
r  before;  he 
le,  with  dc- 
ood  a  bottle 
Paris  could 
As  lunch 
ipagne  sup- 
courage  for 

"  the  Seer 
tone,   "I 

in  the  end 
Ui,  no,"  he 
^stem.  It's 
enow,  made 
yit. 

jack  to  the 
h,  and  fol- 
d  was  deep 

little— then 


lost  again.  All  the  afternoon  long,  he  kept  on  losing. 
The  Seer  walked  about,  exchanging  a  word  or  two  at 
times  with  friends  and  with  ladies  of  his  acquaintance 
(some  of  whose  faces  Franz  fancied  he  had  seen  before  at 
the  London  Pavilion),  but  came  back  agam  to  his  side  after 
each  such  excursion,  with  friendly  persistence. 

"  How  much  have  you  lost  now  ?  "  he  asked  each  time. 

And  Franz,  very  shamefaced,  yet  proud  in  a  way  that 
he  could  own  to  such  losses,  made  answer  again  and  again, 
as  the  case  might  be,  "  A  hundred  and  twenty,"  "  Two 
hundred  and  thirty,"  "  Three  hundred  and  twenty-seven." 
Ach  Gott,  it  was  pitiful ! 

At  last,  about  six  o'clock,  the  Tyroler  found  himself  re- 
duced to  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  his  original  capital. 
He  couldn't  understand  it ;  this  was  strange,  very  strange ; 
the  System  somehow  didn't  seem  to  work  as  it  ought  to 
do.  In  his  despair,  he  almost  began  to  disbelieve  in  its 
virtues.  Just  then,  the  Seer  strolled  casually  by  once 
more,  chatting  gaily  to  a  lady.  He  paused,  and  looked  at 
Franz.  In  the  thirst  for  human  sympathy  we  all  feel  at 
such  times,  Franz  beckoned  him  up  with  one  hand,  and 
confided  to  him  in  a  hoarse  whisper  the  painful  state  of  his 
exchequer.  "  Come  out  and  have  a  drink,"  the  Seer  said, 
bending  low,  with  his  most  courteous  manner.  "  Let's 
work  this  thing  out.     Just  you  show  me  your  System  ?  " 

Franz  followed  him  blindly  across  to  the  cafe  opposite. 
The  Seer  ordered  two  cognacs  and  a  syphon  of  soda- 
water.  "  Now,  tell  me  how  you  do  it,"  he  said,  in  a  very 
grave  voice.  And,  with  son  e  little  reluctance,  looking 
down  at  the  table,  Franz  proceeded  to  disclose  to  his  at- 
tentive listener  the  main  points  of  his  System. 

It  was  a  transparent  fallacy,  of  course.  Such  systems 
always  are ;  and  the  Seer,  who  was  no  fool  at  the  doctrine 
of  chances,  saw  through  it  at  a  glance,  riis  lip  curled 
lightly.  "You're  a  good  mathematician?"  he  asked, 
with  a  well-suppressed  sneer. 

And  Franz  was  obliged  perforce  to  admit,  in  this  critical 
moment,  that  he  had  got  no  further  in  that  abstruse 
science  than  the  first  four  rules  of  arithmetic. 

The  Seer  assumed  his  kindliest  and  most  didactic  man- 
ner. "  Now,  you  look  here,  Herr  von  Forstemann."  he 
said,  leaning  over  towards  his  new  friend  confidently; 


372 


LINNET 


"  you've  allowed  yourself  to  be  duped ;  you've  been  grossly 
imposed  upon.  I  can  show  you  in  a  minute  your  System's 
all  bosh.  The  bank  stands  always  its  regular  chance  to 
win,  no  matter  what  you  do,  and  it  dodges  you  exactly 
where  you  think  you've  dodged  it." 

He  took  out  a  pencil  and  paper,  and  began  with  great 
show  of  care  and  patience  to  make  the  fallacy  as  clear  as 
day  to  his  unwilling  pupil.  Fi-anz  leant  over  him  and 
looked.  Step  by  step  the  clever  American  unraveled  be- 
fore his  eyes  all  the  tangled  mass  of  false  assumptions 
and  baseless  conclusions  Franz  called  his  System.  Poor 
Franz  stood  aghast;  the  demolition  was  patent,  irresistible, 
crushing.  Joaquin  Holmes  was  in  his  element;  he  wa^ 
a  specialist  on  games  of  chance ;  he  demonstrated  with 
loving  care  that  in  this  case,  as  in  all  others,  the  bank  had 
exactly  thirty-seven  chances  for  itself,  against  thirty-six 
for  the  players.  Franz  saw  it  with  his  own  eyes:  sorely 
against  his  will  he  was  forced  to  see  it.  He  couldn't  gain- 
say it :  it  was  clear  as  mud ;  he  could  only  murmur  in  a 
feebly  illogical  way,  "  But  my  friend  m.ade  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds  in  these  rooms  right  off  with  it." 

The  Seer  was  remorseless.  "  Accident !  "  he  answered, 
calmly,  with  a  bland  wave  of  the  hand.  "  Pure  luck ! 
Coincidence!  And  if  it  happened  once,  by  a  mere  fluke, 
to  pull  itself  off  so  well,  all  the  less  reason  to  believe  such 
a  wonderful  sequence  of  happy  shots  would  ever  manage 
to  repeat  itself.  The  bank  stands  always  its  fixed  chance 
to  win  in  a  certain  proportion ;  by  good  fortune  you  may 
circumvent  it,  by  calculation,  never !  " 

Franz  was  convinced  against  his  will.  But  the  blow 
was  an  appalling  one.  He  had  lost  three  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  already ;  he  saw  no  hope  of  recovering  it. 
And,  what  was  far  worse,  he  had  practically  lost  twenty 
thousand  into  the  bargain.  During  all  those  years  while 
he  had  been  saving  and  scraping,  he  had  considered  his 
fortune  as  good  as  made,  if  he  could  but  once  go  to  Monte 
Carlo  with  five  hundred  pounds  of  ready  money  in  his 
pocket.  In  five  short  minutes  the  affable  stranger  had 
knocked  the  bottom  out  of  his  drum — demolished  the 
whole  vast  superstructure  of  false  facts  and  bad  reasoning 
Franz  had  reared  so  carefully ;  and  now,  like  a  house  of 


been  grossly 
)ur  System's 
.r  chance  to 
you  ex^ictly 

1  with  great 
r  as  clear  as 
er  him  and 
iraveled  bc- 
assumptions 
stem.  Poor 
,  irresistible, 
2nt;  he  was 
strated  with 
lie  bank  had 
St  thirty-six 
eyes:  sorely 
)Uldn't  gain- 
lurmur  in  a 
wenty  thou- 

e  answered, 
Pure  luck ! 
mere  fluke, 
believe  such 
ver  manage 
ixed  chance 
ne  you  may 

It  the  blow 
undred  and 
covering  it. 

lost  twenty 
years  while 
isidered  his 
^o  to  Monte 
oney  in  his 
ranger  had 
olished  the 
d  reasoning 

a  house  of 


THE  BUBBLE  BURSTS 


373 


cards,  it  had  tumbled  about  his  ears,  leaving  the  poor 
duped  Tyroler  blankly  hopeless  and  miserable. 

The  reaction  was  painful  and  piteous  to  behold.  From 
a  potential  millionaire,  Franz  descended  at  once  to  be  the 
owner  of  a  paltry  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  in  English 
money.  The  Seer  did  his  best  in  these  straits  to  console 
and  comfort  him.  He  pointed  out  that  while  no  man  can 
ensure  a  fortune  at  games  of  chance  by  trying  to  play  on  a 
system,  any  man  may  have  the  good  luck  to  win  large  sums 
if  he  treats  it  frankly  as  a  question  of  fortune,  not  of  de- 
liberate planning.  *'  Only,"  he  added,  with  a  significant 
glance  towards  the  Casino,  '*  it's  foolish  to  play  where  one 
backs  one's  luck  against  a  public  bank  which  stands  to 
win,  by  its  very  constitution,  a  certain  regular  proportion 
of  all  money  staked  against  it." 

His  words  fell  on  stony  ground.  Franz  was  simply  in- 
consolable. The  longer  he  looked  at  those  irrefragable 
calculations,  the  more  clearly  did  he  recognize  now  that  the 
Seer  was  right,  and  the  System  on  which  he  had  staked  his 
all  was  a  pure  delusion.  But  Mr.  Joaquin  Holmes  extended 
him  still  the  most  obtrusive  sympathy.  "  Fm  awfully 
sorry  for  you,  Herr  von  Forstermann,"  he  said,  over  and 
over  again,  regarding  his  figures  sideways.  "  This  has 
been  a  hard  trial  to  you.  But  you  mustn't  give  up  be- 
cause you've  been  bitten  once.  Sooner  or  later,  luck  munt 
turn.  You've  lost  a  great  deal ;  all  the  sooner,  then,  must 
it  change  for  you.  Give  me  the  pleasure  of  dining  with 
you  at  the  restaurant  round  the  corner.  You'll  see  things 
in  a  truer  light,  you  know,  when  you've  digested  your 
dinner." 

Franz  followed  him  mechanically.  He  had  no  heart  for 
anything.  The  Seer  ordered  a  choice  repast,  and  plied 
his  pigeon  well  with  the  best  wines  in  the  cellar.  All  the 
while,  as  they  dined,  he  harped  still  on  three  chords — his 
own  persistent  ill-luck  at  all  games  of  chance ;  the  folly 
of  playing  where  the  odds  are  against  you,  no  matter  how 
little,  at  a  public  table ;  and  the  certainty  of  winning  back, 
on  the  average,  what  you've  lost,  if  only  you  play  long 
enough  at  even  betting. 

Emotions,  once  well  roused,  tend  to  flow  on  unchecked, 
in  spite  of  temporary  obstacles,  in  an  accustomed  chan- 


374 


LINNET 


nel.  As  the  dinner  digested  itself,  and  the  Dry  Monopole 
fired  Franz's  brain  once  more,  the  thrasonic  mood  of  the 
gambler  came  over  him  yet  again  as  strong  as  ever.  Like 
a  born  braggart  that  he  was,  a  true  Tyrolese  Robbler,  he 
began  to  boast  in  thick  tones  of  how  he  would  get  the  bet- 
ter still  of  those  swindling  tables.  The  Seer  encouraged 
him  to  the  echo  in  this  gallant  resolution,  but  thought  ill  of 
his  chances  at  the  unfair  roulette-board,  against  the  cer- 
tain dead-weight  of  a  mathematical  calculation.  "  Come 
up  with  me  to  my  room  after  dinner,"  he  put  in,  careless- 
ly, "  and  I'll  show  you  a  little  game  I  learnt  when  I  went 
buck-shooting  in  the  Rockies  some  years  ago.  It's  per- 
fectly fair  and  square,  with  no  sort  of  advanlage  to  one 
side  over  the  other.  None  of  your  beastly  zeros :  all  even 
chances.  I  won't  play  it  with  you  myself — or  at  least, 
only  for  a  turn  or  two,  just  to  show  you  how  it's  done — I'm 
so  deuced  unlucky.  But  there  are  lots  of  fellows  around 
who'll  be  glad  enough  to  give  you  a  chance  of  your  re- 
venge ;  and,  in  my  opinion,  it's  just  about  the  very  evenest 
game  a  sensible  man  ever  put  his  money  down  upon." 

Franz  submitted  to  be  taught  wi.h  a  very  good  grace. 
He  was  ready  enough  now  for  anything  on  earth  that 
would  help  him  to  win  back  his  solid  lost  sovereigns. 
They  went  round  to  a  large  hotel  in  the  direction  of  La 
Condamine.  People  were  moving  in  and  out  of  the  door- 
way by  degrees,  for  it  was  just  after  dinner,  and  the  town 
was  crowded.  Franz  followed  the  Seer  upstairs  to  a  nicely 
furnished  bedroom  on  the  second  floor,  arranged  as  a  .salon, 
with  an  alcove  for  the  bed,  after  the  continental  fashion. 
Nobody  took  much  notice  of  them  ;  come  and  go  is  the  rule 
at  Monte  Carlo  everywhere;  and,  besides,  Mr.  Joaquin 
Holmes,  that  affable  new-comer,  was  very  much  in  the 
habit  of  taking  strangers  to  play  in  his  bedroom. 

They  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  the  Seer,  after  much 
show  of  fumbling  in  his  box,  produced  at  last  a  pack  of 
English  cards,  the  cover  still  unbroken.  With  an  innocent 
air  of  very  slight  acquaintance  with  the  game  he  had  pro- 
posed, he  shuffled  and  cut  them.  "  Let  me  see,"  he  said, 
knitting  his  brows,  and  pretending  to  recollect.  "  It's  like 
this,  I  think.  Ah,  yes  I  remember."  And  he  dealt  out  a 
card  to  himself,  and  another  to  Franz,  with  most  ingenious 
carelessness. 


THE  BUBBLE  BURSTS 


375 


J  Monopole 
lood  of  the 
ever.  Like 
Robbler,  he 
get  the  bet- 
encouraged 
ought  ill  of 
ist  the  cer- 
n.  "  Come 
in,  careless- 
^hen  I  went 
'.  It's  per- 
lage  to  one 
os:  all  even 
or  at  least, 
>  done — I'm 
ows  around 
of  your  re- 
/■ery  evenest 
upon." 
^ood  grace, 
earth  that 
sovereigns, 
ction  of  La 
Df  the  door- 
id  the  town 
to  a  nicely 
\  as  a  salon. 
tal  fashion. 
0  is  the  rule 
Ir.  Joaquin 
luch  in  the 
1. 

after  much 
t  a  pack  of 
an  innocent 
he  had  pro- 
e,"  he  said, 
"  It's  like 
dealt  out  a 
St  ingenious) 


Then  he  went  on  to  explain  in  very  glowing  terms  the 
simplicity  of  this  game,  and  its  peculiar  guilelessness. 
"  You  back  your  card  for  what  you  like,  and,  if  I  choose,  I 
double  you.  You  see,  it's  even  chances.  We  each  stand 
to  win  equally.  It's  easy  as  ABC.  But  my  luck's  so 
bad,  I  won't  play  you  for  money.  Let's  stake  an  imagin- 
ary five  pounds  on  the  turn-up." 

They  tried  a  deal  or  two,  for  love,  on  this  imaginary 
basis,  and  Franz  won  twice  out  of  three  times.  He  wished 
it  had  been  for  sovereigns.  He  tried  again  and  again,  the 
Seer  manipulating  his  pack  all  the  time  with  conspicuous 
awkwardness,  and  managing  to  lose  with  surprising  regu- 
larity. What  a  pity  the  man  was  so  shy  of  tempting  fate, 
Franz  thought ;  though,  to  be  sure,  it  was  no  wonder.  For 
he  lost,  lost,  lost,  with  almost  incredible  persistence.  Still, 
Franz  was  annoyed  to  think  that  so  many  lucky  shots,  at 
so  even  a  game,  should  all  go  for  nothing.  And  he  him- 
self— why,  he  could  win  at  this  play  like  wildfire.  If  only 
he  could  find  such  a  pigeon  to  pluck !  He'd  drain  his  man 
dry  of  all  he  had  at  a  sitting ! 

"  Come,  put  a  louis  on  it !  "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  with  a 
"  Who's  afraid  "  sort  of  air,  to  the  reluctant  stranger. 

The  Coloradan  hesitated.  He  pulled  out  a  purse  full 
of  notes  and  gold.  "  No;  I  can't  go  to  a  louis,"  he  an- 
swered, gingerly,  after  a  pause.  *'  I've  such  beastly  bad 
luck.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do;  I'll  lay  you  ten  francs 
on  it!" 

His  air  was  candid  enough  to  disarm  the  most  suspi- 
cious mind.  He  played,  and  lost.  Franz  picked  the  coins 
up  nimbly.  "  Try  it  again,"  he  said,  with  a  broad  smile ; 
and  Joaquin  Holmes  tried  it.  Four  times  running  Franz 
won ;  then  the  American  lost  patience.  "  I'll  go  you  a 
louis,"  he  cried,  warming  up,  and  drawing  a  coin  from 
his  purse.  Franz  took  him,  and  won  it.  At  that,  Holmes, 
as  the  Robbler  thought,  lost  his  head  and  grew  frantic. 
He  plunged ;  he  doubled ;  he  lost ;  he  cursed  his  luck ;  and 
once  more  he  boldly  plunged  again.  Now  and  then,  to 
be  sure  he  won;  but  'twas  always  on  the  times  when  he 
omitted  to  double.  This  was  a  first-rate  game,  Franz 
thought ;  he  was  winning  back  his  own  again. 

After  a  while,  the  Seer  pulled  up  his  chair,  and  settled 
down  to  it  seriously.    "  I'm  a  devil  of  a  gambler,"  he  said. 


376 


LINNET 


Qi 


with  a  smile,  "  when  once  I  get  well  into  it.  I  won't  leave 
off  now  till  you've  broken  my  bank,  ?nd  got  my  bottom 
dollar.  I've  eight  hundred  pounds  here  " — which  was  a 
simple  trade  lie — "  and  I  won't  stop  now  till  I've  lost  every 
penny  of  it." 

Ha,  ha;  that  was  game!  They  buckled  to  in  earnest. 
Franz  played  with  a  will.  He  won,  won,  won ;  he  laughed 
loud;  he  picked  up  gaily;  then,  suddenly,  strange  to  say, 
he  lost,  lost,  lost  again,  i  il  at  once,  the  Seer's  fingers 
seemed  to  go  like  lightning.  He  dealt  fast  and  furious; 
lie  doubled  every  time ;  luck  had  somehow  changed ;  he 
was  winning  now  heavily.  Franz  didn't  think  quite  so 
well  of  the  game  as  it  proceeded ;  he  began  to  regard  it,  in 
fact,  as  little  short  of  a  swindle.  But,  as  his  pile  dimin- 
ished, the  Seer  gave  him  scant  time  to  reflect  between 
deals.  "  Stake !  I  double  you !  "  Flash  went  the  card ; 
the  Seer  raked  in  the  money.  That  was  very  strong 
champagne,  and  Franz's  head  was  reeling.  Still  he 
played,  played,  played,  lost,  lost,  lost,  yet  played  again. 
His  pile  was  dwindling  now  with  appalling  rapidity.  He 
took  a  pull  at  the  brandy  and  soda  the  Seer  had  obligingly 
placed  by  his  side.  What  was  this  ?  The  affable  stranger 
was  clearing  him  out  every  time.  Franz  began  to  suspect 
a  plant.     Could  the  man  be  a  swindler  ? 

He  glanced  at  his  little  heap.  A  cold  thrill  coursed 
through  him.  Only  seven  louis  left!  When  those  seven 
were  gone — why,  then  he  would  be  penniless ! 

The  Seer  dealt  again.  With  a  loud  German  oath,  Franz 
seized  his  hand  and  stopped  it.  "  I  sazv  you  do  it,'"  he 
cried.  "  You  rogue,  I've  found  you  out !  You  felt  one 
card,  changed  it,  and  then  pushed  out  another." 

The  Seer  sprang  up  angrily.  "  That's  an  imputation 
on  my  honour,"  he  cried,  standing  up  and  facing  him  with 
an  air  of  indignant  virtue.  "  I'm  an  English  gentleman. 
If  you  insult  me  like  that " 

But  before  he  could  say  another  word, — quick  as 
thought,  a  knife  flashed  in  the  air  with  unspeakable  swift- 
ness. The  Seer's  hard  darted  into  his  pocket  for  the 
trusty  six-shooter.  It  was  dagger  against  pistol,  Tyroler 
against  Westerner.  But  Franz  was  loo  sharp  for  him. 
Before  the  Coloradan's  deft  fingers  could  reach  the  trigger 
of  the  revolver,  that  keen  blade  was  buried  deep  in  his 


THE  BUBBLE  BURSTS 


377 


won't  leave 

my  bottom 

/hich  was  a 

it  lost  every 

I  in  earnest. 
;  he  laughed 
inge  to  say, 
^er's  fingers 
md  furious; 
:hanged;  he 
nk  quite  so 
regard  it,  in 
pile  dimin- 
ect  between 
It  the  card; 
^ery  strong 
Still   he 


fl- 


ayed again, 
pidity.  He 
d  obligingly 
ble  stranger 
n  to  suspect 

rill  coursed 
those  seven 

oath,  Franz 
I  do  it,'*  he 
ou  felt  one 


exposed  left  breast— buried  deep  and  gurgling.  Without 
a  word,  without  a  groan,  the  American  dropped  back  short 
into  the  easy-chair  he  had  that  moment  quitted.  Blood 
spurted  from  the  wound— spurted  fast  in  little  jets.  It  had 
penetrated  his  heart.     He  was  dead  in  a  second. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  say  it,  Franz  realized  what 
he  had  done,  and  pulled  himself  together  from  his  parox- 
ysm of  passion.  Leaving  the  notes  where  they  lay,  he 
crammed  his  own  gold  hastily  into  his  waistcoat  pocket,  lie 
let  the  knife  stop  in  the  wound ;  it  was  in  no  way  com- 
promising. Then  he  opened  the  door,  and  walked  calmly 
out,  and  down  the  broad  stone  steps,  and  into  the  streets 
of  Monte  Carlo. 


imputation 

ig  him  with 

gentleman. 

—quick  as 
kable  swift- 
cet  for  the 
tol,  Tyroler 
p  for  him. 
the  trigger 
leep  in  his 


CHAPTER  XLIX 


THE  PIGEON   FLIES   HOME 


; 


A  RoBBLER^s  not  a  man  to  be  lightly  discomposed  by  the 
mere  accident  that  he  hippens  to  have  committed  a  murder, 
Franz's  first  impulse,  indeed,  as  he  left  that  blood-stained 
room,  was  to  run  away  helter-skelter  from  the  scene  of 
his  hasty  crime — to  disappear  into  space — London,  the 
Tyrol,  anywhere — without  even  goingf  back  to  his  hotel 
at  Nice  to  reclaim  his  portmanteau.  But  second  thoughts 
showed  him  how  foolish  so  precipitate  a  retreat  would  be. 
By  adopting  it,  he  would  be  throwing  away  many  valuable 
chances  which  now  told  in  his  favor.  It  was  wholly  to 
the  good,  for  example,  that  he'd  happened  to  give  his 
name  all  along  the  line  as  Karl  von  Forstemann  from 
Vienna.  Even  if  the  authorities  found  reason  to  suspect 
him  of  having  killed  this  man  Holmes,  they'd  lose  much 
useful  time  in  trying  to  track  down  the  imaginary  Von 
Forstemann ;  while  he  himself  might  be  making  his  way 
quietly  across  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  continent, 
meanwhile,  under  his  own  true  name  as  Franz  Lindner 
of  the  London  Pavilion.  Though,  to  be  sure,  there  was  no 
reason  why  they  should  ever  suspect  him.  Hundreds  of 
people  flocked  in  and  out  of  Monte  Carlo  every  day ;  hun- 
dreds of  people  come  and  go  at  every  hotel,  unnoticed.  Be- 
sides, it  wasn't  likely  the  body'd  be  discovered  till  to-mor- 
row morning ;  and  by  that  time,  Gott  sei  dank,  he'd  be  safe 
and  away  across  the  Italian  frontier. 

It  was  early  still — only  a  little  past  ten.  Tremulous  and 
startled  by  the  magnitude  of  his  crime,  he  strolled  about 
for  awhile  to  cool  himself  in  the  Casino  gardens.  Then  a 
happy  thought  struck  him — he'd  go  in  and  play  for  a  bit 
to  avoid  suspicion.  Hot  at  heart  as  he  was,  but  trying  his 
best  to  look  unconcerned,  he  passed  into  those  huge  over- 
heated rooms  once  more,  and  played  for  half-an-hour  with 
very  languid  attention.  The  greater  stake  now  in  jeopardy 
made  it  difficult  for  him  when  he  won  to  remember  even  to 

378 


THE  PIGEON  FLIES  HOME 


379 


sed  by  the 
[  a  murder. 
)od-stained 
e  scene  of 
mdon,  the 
)  his  hotel 
d  thoughts 

would  be. 
ly  valuable 

wholly  to 
o  give  his 
nann  from 
to  suspect 
lose  much 
;inary  Von 
[g  his  way 

continent, 
iz  Lindner 
lere  was  no 
Lmdreds  of 

day ;  hun- 
iticed.  Bc- 
;ill  to-mor- 
e'd  be  safe 

nulous  and 
Dlled  about 
Then  a 
y  for  a  bit 
;  trying  his 
huge  over- 
hour  with 
n  jeopardy 
Der  even  to 


take  up  his  money ;  he  let  it  lie  once  or  twice  on  the  board 
till  it  doubled  and  trebled  itself.  But  that  was  all  to  the 
good ;  it  suited  his  book  well :  people  noticed  only  the  more 
how  coolly  he  was  playing.  Strange  to  say,  he  was  win- 
ning, too,  when  he  cared  so  little  whether  he  won  or  lost — 
winning  pounds  at  a  time  on  every  turn  of  the  tables.  It 
was  a  master-stroke  of  policy,  and  Franz  plumed  himself 
not  a  little  on  being  clever  enough  to  think  of  it.  How 
could  people  ever  say  it  was  lie  who  killed  the  man,  when 
he'd  spent  half  the  night  at  play  in  the  gambling  rooms  of 
the  Casino? 

At  eleven,  he  left  off,  several  pounds  to  the  good,  and 
strolled  down  to  the  station  with  well-assumed  careless- 
ness. He  returned  in  a  carriage  with  the  two  jolly  young 
English.men.  Casually,  on  the  way,  he  mentioned  to  thcii 
that  he  was  going  to  leave  Nice  next  morning.  At  the 
hotel  they  broke  another  bottle  of  champagne  together. 
Franz  sat  up,  and  talked  excitedly,  and  even  sang  comic 
songs ;  he  was  afraid  to  go  to  bed ;  though  still  self- 
possessed,  and  by  no  means  panic-stricken,  he  was  nervous 
and  agitated. 

That  night,  he  never  undressed.  He  lay  in  his  clothes  on 
the  bed,  and  slept  by  snatches  fitfully.  In  the  morning, 
he  rose  early,  and  looked  hard  for  spots  of  blood  as  he 
washed  and  dressed  himself.  But  he  had  done  his  work 
far  too  neatly  to  spatter  his  clothes.  "  Coffee,  quick,  and 
my  bill !  "  he  said  to  the  waiter  who  answered  the  bell ; 
"  I  want  to  catch  an  early  train  at  the  station  for  England." 
He  said  England  on  purpose,  though  he  meant  it  to  be 
Italy.  With  a  true  Tyroler's  instinct,  he  would  strike 
straight  home — by  Milan,  Verona,  and  the  Brenner,  to  St. 
Valentin. 

At  the  station,  he  took  a  through  ticket,  first-class,  for 
Genoa.  He  had  to  pass  Monte  Carlo,  and  he  did  so  with 
repugnance.  Yet  he  wasn't  much  afraid ;  the  Robbler  in- 
stinct was  still  strong  within  him.  A  couple  of  fat  French- 
men got  into  the  carriage  at  Monaco ;  they  were  talking  of 
some  tragedy  that  had  happened  last  night  at  an  hotel  at 
La  Condamine.  Franz  pricked  up  his  ears  but  tried  to  look 
unconcerned.  "  Somebody  dead  ? "  he  inquired  in  his 
Teutonic  French,  with  a  show  of  languid  interest. 

"  Yes ;  another  suicide,"  one  of  the  Frenchmen  answered. 


38o 


LINNET 


shrugging  his  shoulders,  with  a  smile.  "  Que  voulez-vous? 
An  Englishman — a  fellow  called  Holmes — or,  some  say, 
an  American.  He  stabbed  himself  last  night,  after  losing 
heavily.  He  was  stopping  at  my  hotel:  he  went  to  bea 
all  well ;  the  servants  knocked  this  morning — got  no 
answer — went  in  and  found  the  body  in  a  fautcuH,  where 
the  malhciircux  had  stal)bed  himself." 

Franzs  eyes  gleamed  bright.  So  at  first  they  had  put 
the  best  intcri)retation  upon  it !  The  mere  suspicion  of  a 
suicide  might  give  him  a  start  that  would  enable  him  to 
escape.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  return.  "  A  com- 
mon episode  of  life  as  things  go  at  Monte  Carlo !  "  he  mur- 
mured, philosophically. 

The  Fren:hmen  got  out  and  left  the  train  at  Mentone. 
At  Ventimiglia,  Franz  crossed  the  frontier  with  a  beating 
heart ;  so  far,  at  least,  no  telegram  to  arrest  or  detain  him. 
All  morning,  the  train  crawled  on  at  a  snail's  pace  towards 
Genoa.  Franz  chafed  and  grumbled,  eating  his  heart  out 
with  impatience.  At  San  Pier  d' Arena,  the  junction-sta- 
tion, he  took  his  portmanteau  in  his  hand,  and  re-booked 
for  Milan.  There  he  spent  that  second  night  in  fear  and 
trembling.  On  his  way  up  to  an  hotel,  he  bought  a  copy 
of  an  evening  paper — the  Corriere  della  Sera.  The  same 
'■^ory  still — Suicidio  a  Monte  Carlo. 

He  didn't  sleep  much  ;  but  he  slept — that  was  ever  some- 
thing. At  seven  o'clock,  he  was  up,  and  walked  out  to- 
wards the  Cathedral.  But  that  mount  of  marble,  with  its 
thousand  spires  and  its  statued  pinnacles  in  the  myriad 
niches,  had  no  power  on  such  a  day  to  arrest  his  attention  ; 
beside  the  great  west  door,  he  was  looking  for  a  boy  with 
a  morning  newspaper.  Soon  he  found  one,  and  tore  it 
open  under  the  arcades  of  the  Piazza.  He  knew  no  Italian, 
but  by  the  aid  of  his  scanty  French  he  could  make  out  the 
meaning  of  one  sinister  paragraph.  "  It  is  now  believed 
that  the  man  Holme  or  Holmes,  who  was  found  stabbed  in 
his  room  at  the  Hotel  des  Etrangers,  at  Monte  Carlo, 
yesterday  morning,  met  his  death  by  foul  means,  and  not, 
as  was  at  first  suspected,  by  suicide.  The  doctors  who  have 
examined  the  wound  concur  in  the  opinion  that  it  could 
hardly  by  any  possibility  be  self-inflicted.  Holmes  is  now 
known  to  have  been  a  notorious  card-sharper,  and  it  is 


THE  PIGEON  FLIES  HOME 


381 


iiles-voiisf 
some  say, 
iftcr  losing 
'ent  to  beti 
? — ^ot  no 
ctiil,  where 

ey  had  put 
picion  of  a 
ible  him  to 
"  A  com- 
! "  he  mur- 

t  Mentone. 
h  a  beating 
detain  him. 
ice  towards 
s  heart  out 
inction-sta- 
I  re-booked 
in  fear  and 
ight  a  copy 
The  same 

ever  some- 
ced  out  to- 
ile.  with  its 
the  myriad 
3  attention ; 
a  boy  with 
and  tore  it 

no  Italian, 
ake  out  the 
iw  believed 

stabbed  in 
mte  Carlo, 
s,  and  not, 
s  who  have 
at  it  could 
nes  is  now 
and  it  is 


surmised  that  he  may  have  been  murdered  in  a  fit  of  re- 
vengeful passion  by  one  of  liis  victims,  several  of  whom  he 
is  said  to  have  duped  during  the  last  few  days  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Casino.  No  clue,  however,  has  as  yet 
been  obtained  to  the  name  or  personality  of  his  supposed 
assailant." 

Murder!  they  called  it  murder  to  stab  that  cheating 
rogue !  and  they  took  him  for  a  murderer  just  because  he'd 
revenged  himself !  When  they'd  got  as  far  as  that,  it  was 
probable  before  long  they'd  track  the  deed  home  to  Herr 
Karl  von  Forstcmann.  Franz  saw  clearly  enough  now 
what  his  next  move  must  be.  Herr  Karl  von  Forstemann 
must  disappear  as  if  by  magic  from  this  earthly  scene,  and 
Franz  Lindner  of  St.  Valentin,  and  of  the  London  Pa- 
vilion, that  honest  and  simple-minded  Tyrolese  musician, 
must  at  once  replace  him. 

He  paid  his  bill  at  the  hotel,  took  a  cab  to  the  station 
instead  of  the  omnibus,  and  caught  the  through  train  to 
Venice  direct — throwing  the  police  off  his  track,  if  it  came 
to  police,  by  getting  out  short,  portmanteau  in  hand,  at 
Verona,  for  the  Brenner.  All  day  long,  he  traveled  on  by 
that  beautiful  mountain  line,  up  the  Adige  towards  Botzen  ; 
and,  though  he  was  flying  for  his  life,  it  gave  him  none  the 
less  a  genuine  thrill  of  joy  when  he  beheld  once  more  those 
beloved  Tyrolese  peaks,  and  heard  the  German  tongue 
spoken  with  a  Tyrolese  accent.  He  slept  that  night  at 
Botzen.  There,  he  felt  his  foot  once  more  upon  his  native 
heath.  In  the  morning,  he  rose  early,  and  went  into  a 
hatter's,  where  he  bought  a  Tyrolese  hat  of  the  old  conical 
pattern ;  all  fugitive  that  he  was,  the  ingrained  instincts  of 
his  youth  yet  made  him  turn  the  blackcock's  feather  in  it 
the  wrong  way  forward,  Robbler-wise.  Vain-glorious  still 
and  defiant,  nobody  would  ever  have  taken  him  for  a  run- 
away criminal.  He  bought  also  a  pair  of  stout  Tyrolese 
boots,  and  introduced  a  few  other  little  changes  in  his 
costume,  sufficient  to  transform  him  at  once  from  the  cos- 
mopolitan snob  into  the  simple  Franz  Lindner  of  the  old 
days  at  St.  Valentin.  Then  he  took  the  train  north  again, 
right  through  to  Innsbruck,  where  he  slept  his  third  night, 
more  confident  than  before,  and  had  a  chance  of  reading 
all  in  a  Vienna  paper. 


1'1 


382 


LINNET 


That  all  was  bad  enough.  No  doubt  now  remained  on 
the  minds  of  the  French  police  that  Joaquin  Holmes  had 
been  really  murdered.  The  hypothesis  of  suicide  broke 
down  at  every  step.  Suspicion  pointed  most  to  one  or 
other  of  three  persons  whom  he  was  believed  to  have  duped 
just  before  the  murder.  One  of  these  three  was  being 
traced  by  detectives  to  Marseilles  and  Paris ;  the  other  two 
it  was  believed,  had  gone  on  to  Italy.  In  the  interest  of 
justice,  the  police  would  mention  no  names  at  present,  but 
one  of  these  three,  they  held,  must  almost  certainly  be  the 
murderer. 

Still,  the  instinct  of  his  race  urged  Franz  on  to  the  St. 
Valentin.  He  took  the  afternoon  train  north  as  far  as 
Jenbach ;  then  he  tramped  all  the  way  on  foot  to  his  native 
village.  It  was  late  when  he  arrived,  and,  tired  and  hunted 
down,  he  went  straight  to  the  IVirthshaus.  Cousin  Frido- 
lin  held  up  his  hands  in  astonishment  to  see  the  wanderer. 
It  wasn't  merely  surprise  that  Franz  should  come  back  at 
all,  but  that  he  should  come  back  as  he  went — a  genuine 
Tyroler.  All  were  well  in  the  place:  the  Herr  Vicar  and 
everyone.  And  Andreas  Hausberger  and  Linnet  were 
here  as  well — returned  home  for  a  holiday. 

It  was  Franzs  turn  to  start  back  in  prise.  What, 
Andreas  and  Linnet  come  back  to  St.  Valentin!  Im- 
possible !    You  don't  mean  it ! 

But  Cousin  Floridolin  did  mean  it — with  his  thumbs  in 
the  armholes  of  his  red  Tyrolese  waistcoat.  They'd  re- 
tired for  the  night — they  were  here  at  the  inn ;  but  he'd 
knock  at  their  door  (full  of  country  hospitality  as  he  was, 
the  simple  soul !)  and  tell  them  to  come  out  and  welcome  a 
friend  home  again. 

Franz  seized  his  arm  to  prevent  him.  "  Oh  no,"  he 
cried ;  "  not  that.  .  .  .  There  are  reasons  why  you 
mustn't.  .  .  .  Andreas  and  T  had  a  difference  some 
years  ago  at  Meran ;  and  though  we  patched  it  all  up  again 
in  a  way  in  London,  I  don't  want  to  see  him  now — at  least, 
not  till  to-morrow." 

As  for  Cousin  Fridolin,  standing  back  and  regarding 
him  in  surprise,  he  could  hardly  understand  these  fine 
town-bred  manners.  If  Franz  had  come  back  a  true  Ty- 
roler in  dress,  he  brought  with  him  none  the  less  all  the 


imained  on 
lolmes  had 
icide  broke 

to  one  or 
have  duped 

was  being 
e  other  two 

interest  of 
^resent,  but 
linly  be  the 

n  to  the  St. 
1  as  far  as 
o  his  native 
and  hunted 
lusin  Frido- 
e  wanderer. 
)nie  back  at 
— a  genuine 
r  Vicar  and 
^innet   were 

ise.  What, 
ntin !     Im- 

thumbs  in 
They'd  re- 
n;  but  he'd 

as  he  was. 

welcome  a 

:^h  no."  he 
s  why  you 
rcnce  some 
all  up  again 
w — at  least, 


THE  PIGEON  FLIES  HOME 


383 


1 


regarding 

these  fine 

a  true  Ty- 

less  all  the 


airs  and  graces  of  Western  civilization,  as  understood  by 
the  frequenters  of  the  London  Pavilion.  They  sat  awhile 
and  talked,  while  Franz  ate  die  rough  supper  and  drank  as 
nmch  as  was  good  for  him  of  the  thin  country  beer ;  but 
Cousin  Fridolin  noticed  that  his  old  rival  and  companion 
seemed  unaccountably  stiff  and  reserved  in  his  demeanor. 
Especially  did  he  shirk  any  obtrusive  questions  as  to 
whence  he  had  come,  and  by  what  route  he  had  got  there. 
As  they  parted  for  t!ie  night,  Franz  turned  to  Cousin  Fri- 
dolin, who  alone  in  the  village  had  yet  seen  or  spoken  with 
him.  *'  Don't  tell  Andreas  and  Linnet  I  came  here  to- 
night," he  said.  "  I  want  them  not  to  know  till  they  meet 
me  as  a  surprise  to-morrow  morning." 

Cousin  Fridolin,  much  wondering,  promised  compliance 
with  his  wish.  He  lighted  Franz  to  his  room,  and  bade 
him  good-night  in  a  very  audible  whisper.  Herr  Andreas 
and  his  wife  had  the  next  rooms  to  him,  he  said.  Franz 
nodded  a  distant  assent,  and  shook  his  hand  somewhat 
coldly.  The  terror  that  had  stood  over  him  since  he  left 
Monte  Carlo  grew  somehov/  much  deeper,  much  rearer, 
much  more  real,  as  he  found  himself  once  more  in  these 
familiar  surroundings.  He  bolted  die  door  with  its  little 
wooden  button,  and  sat  alone  on  the  bed  for  some  minutes 
in  silence.  The  solitude  appalled  him  more  than  ever 
before ;  he  felt  consc'ous,  in  some  dim  way,  the  hue-and- 
cry  of  the  police  was  now  well  after  him. 

As  he  sat  there  and  listened  to  his  own  heart  beating, 
while  the  tallow  candle  guttered  on  the  table  by  his  side, 
a  low  sound  from  the  next  room  began  to  attract  his 
attention.  It  was  a  stifled  sound,  with  a  choking  sort  of 
sob  in  it.  Just  at  first,  too  preoccupied  with  his  own 
emotions,  Franz  hardly  noticed  it ;  but  at  last  it  obtruded 
itself  upon  him  by  its  very  unobtrusiveness.  C»f  a  sudden, 
he  realized  to  himself  what  manner  of  noise  this  was.  It 
was  the  deep  suppressed  sound  of  a  woman  weeping.  With 
her  head  under  the  bed-clothes,  she  was  crying,  crying,  cry- 
ing, silently. 

Rising  up  from  his  bed,  Franz  crept  over  to  the  door  of 
communication  between  the  two  rooms,  his  mind  for  the 
moment  distracted  by  the  sound  even  from  his  own  im- 
mediate and  pressing  danger.    For  it  was  borne  in  upon 


m^w^ 


384 


LINNET 


M 


:;:il? 


.-iu-'r 


him  at  once  by  what  FridoHn  Telser  had  said,  that  ^he 
woman  in  the  next  room  was  none  other  than  Linnet ! 

Sob,  sob,  sob,  the  voice  continued,  chokingly.  Franz 
could  feel  rather  than  hear  that  the  noise  was  muffled  by 
the  intervention  of  the  bed-clothes,  and  that  Linnet,  if  it 
was  she,  was  doing  the  very  best  she  knew  to  check  it. 
But,  in  spite  of  her  efforts,  the  sobs  broke  out  afresh  every 
now  and  again,  spasmodically;  she  was  sobbing,  sobbing, 
sobbing,  as  if  her  heart  would  break — sobbing  by  herself 
in  the  solitude  of  her  bedroom. 

All  terrified  as  he  was,  Franz's  heart  stood  still  at  it. 

Presently,  another  door  on  the  far  side  seemed  to  open, 
and  a  voice  was  heard  saying  in  low,  angry  tones,  "  Won't 
you  stop  that  noise  ?    I  can't  sleep  for  hearing  you." 

It  was  Andreas  Hausbergers  voice ;  Fx anz  clenched  his 
hands  to  hear  it.  But  Linnet  seemed  to  raise  her  head 
from  the  bed-clothes  at  those  words,  and  speak  at  last  with 
a  great  effort  to  calm  herself.  "  Andreas,"  she  said, 
through  her  sobs,  "  as  the  Church  bids,  I  follow  you ;  but 
I  can't  help  crying  when  1  think  how  you  treat  mc.  I  cry 
as  silently  and  quietly  as  I  can  to  myself.  If  I  keep  you 
awake,  you  must  take  another  room  a  little  farther  off  from 
me. 

That  was  all.  She  said  no  more;  and  Andreas  closed 
the  door,  as  Franz  judged,  and  went  back  again.  But  even 
in  his  own  hour  of  peril  and  terror — perhaps  all  the  more 
keenly  because  of  all  that  had  happened  to  him — Franz 
read  in  those  few  words  the  whole  story  of  Linnet's  un- 
happy marriage.  He  had  suspected  it  before,  of  course, 
but  now  he  knew  it.  Andreas's  gruff  tone  of  reproof,  poor 
Linnet's  shrinking  accent  of  despairing  misery.  we?e  more 
eloquent  in  his  ears  than  whole  hours  of  deliberate  and 
demonstrative  talking.  This  episode  meant  much  to  him. 
It  was  for  Linnet  he  had  hazarded  and  encountered  every- 
thing— it  was  for  Linnet,  indirectly,  he  had  risked  his  own 
life  by  stabbing  that  wretched  man  away  over  at  Monte 
Carlo ! 

His  anger  burned  bright  against  Andreas  Hausberger; 
Hausberger  who  had  cheated  him  of  his  Linnet  long  ago ; 
Hausberger  who  was  making  his  Linnet's  life  a  burden  to 
her!     The  cold-blooded  wretch!    How  Franz  wished  it 


THE  PIGEON  FLIES  HOME 


385 


d,  that  ^he 
innet ! 
ly.     Franz 
muffled  by 
,innet,  if  it 

0  check  it. 
fresh  every 
g,  sobbing, 

by  herself 

;till  at  it. 
ed  to  open, 
IS,  •'  Won't 
ou." 

lenched  his 
e  her  head 
at  last  with 
'  she  said, 
w  you ;  but 
mc.    I  cry 

1  keep  you 
ler  oflf  from 

reas  closed 
1.  But  even 
11  the  more 
lim — Franz 
jnnet's  un- 
of  course, 
proof,  poor 
were  more 
iberate  and 
uch  to  him. 
ered  every- 
:ed  his  own 
r  at  Monte 


was  into  him  he  had  plunged  that  good  knife  that  did  swift 
execution  on  the  dead  cheat  at  Monte  Carlo !  Ah  well,  ah 
well,  it  was  not  too  late  even  now !  If  he  couldn't  marry 
Linnet,  he  could  at  least  avenge  her !  He  could  have  wiped 
out  old  scores  and  redressed  new  wrongs — if  it  had  only 
been  Andreas  in  place  of  that  other  man ! 


lausberger ; 
t  long  ago ; 
1  burden  to 
:  wished  it 


PPM 


CHAPTER  L 


ANDREAS    HAUSBERGER    PAYS 


That  night  again  Franz  didn't  trouble  to  undress.  He  lay 
on  the  bed  in  his  clothes,  and  let  the  candle  burn  out  as  it 
would  in  its  socket.  Early  next  morning,  with  the  rest- 
lessness of  a  hunted  man,  he  rose  betimes,  and  went  down 
to  the  wonted  breakfast  of  the  inn  with  Cousin  Fridolin. 
Their  talk  over  their  coffee  was  of  Linnet  and  Andreas. 
Fridolin  retailed  to  him,  bit  by  bit,  all  the  sinister  surmises 
of  the  village  gossips;  people  thought  at  St.  Valentin 
Andreas  was  jealous  at  last  of  his  beautiful  Frau — Fridolin 
let  his  voice  drop  to  a  confidential  key — and  had  brought 
her  away  hither  from  some  lover  in  London.  Franz 
smiled  bitterly  at  that  thought ;  why,  the  man  hadn't  heart 
enough  in  him  to  be  even  jealous — for  one  may  be  beneath 
jealousy  as  one  may  be  above  it.  Was  he  unkind  to  her? 
Franz  asked,  curiously,  as  Cousin  Fridolin  broke  off  in  the 
midst  of  a  sentence. 

Well,  he  didn't  exactly  strike  her,  Cousin  Fridolin  be- 
lieved ;  though,  to  be  sure,  when  she  first  came  to  the  inn, 
she  bore  marks  of  violence.  But  she  cried  all  day,  and  she 
cried  all  night;  and  folks  fancied  in  the  village  it  might 
perhaps  be  for  Will  Deverill.  At  any  rate,  she  and  An- 
dreas lost  no  love  between  them ;  many  said  it  was  only  as 
a  good  Catholic  she  stopped  with  him. 

After  breakfast,  Franz  rose  up  and  walked  out  on  the 
road  aimlessly.  Restless  still,  with  the  ever-present  fear 
of  detection  upon  him,  and  with  the  fiery  Tyrolese  heart 
eating  itself  out  within,  he  walked  on  and  on,  hardly  know- 
ing why  he  did  so.  At  last  he  reached  Zell,  the  little  capi- 
tal of  the  valley.  It  was  early  still,  for  he  had  started  at 
daybreak ;  but  already  a  strange  group  of  whispering  vil- 
lagers crowded  agog  round  the  door  of  the  post-office  and 
telegraph,  where  the  post-master  was  affixing  an  official 
notice.    Franz  joined  them,  and  read.    His  blood  ran  cold 

386 


ANDREAS  HAUSBERGER  PAYS 


387 


;ss.  He  lay 
n  out  as  it 
h  the  rest- 
went  down 
n  Fridolin. 
1  Andreas. 
;r  surmises 
:.  Valentin 
I — Fridolin 
ad  brought 
)n.  Franz 
ladn't  heart 
be  beneath 
ind  to  her? 
e  off  in  the 

'ridolin  be- 
to  the  inn, 
ay,  and  she 
ye  it  might 
le  and  An- 
Aras  only  as 

out  on  the 
(resent  fear 
•olese  heart 
irdly  know- 
;  little  capi- 
started  at 
spering  vil- 
»t-office  and 
•  an  official 
od  ran  cold 


within  him.  It  was  a  Kaiserlich-Koniglich  police  an- 
nouncement of  a  public  reward  of  ten  thousand  florins  for 
information  leading  to  the  capture  of  one  Karl  von  Forste- 
mann  of  Vienna — age,  height,  and  description  as  below 
annexed — accused  of  the  murder  of  Joaquin  Holmes,  an 
American  citizen,  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  known  to  have  re- 
turned to  Austrian  territory  by  Veron?  and  Botzen,  where 
he  had  altered  his  clothing,  and  gone  on  to  Innsbruck. 

As  Franz  read  those  damning  words,  he  knew  in  a 
second  all  was  really  up  with  him.  Once  they  had  tracked 
him  so  far,  they  must  track  him  to  St.  Valentin.  Again 
the  instinct  of  his  race  drove  him  back  towards  his  native 
village,  after  a  word  or  two  interchanged  with  his  friends 
at  the  post-office.  Those  simple  country  souls  never 
dreamt  in  tlieir  hearts  of  suspecting  their  okl  comrade, 
Franz  Lindner  the  j'dger,  who  had  come  back  unex- 
pectedly, like  Andreas  and  Linnet,  of  being  the  Karl  von 
Forstemann  of  Vienna  referred  to  in  the  announcement. 
But  Franz  knew  it  couldn't  be  long  before  the  police  were 
on  his  track ;  ani'  he  turned  and  fled  upwards  to  his  old 
liome  at  St.  Valentin,  like  a  fox  to  its  lair,  or  a  rabbit  to 
its  burrow. 

All  the  way  up  the  hill  his  soul  seethed  within  him.  He 
would  sell  his  life  dear,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst; 
they  should  fight  for  it  low  before  ever  they  took  him.  He 
had  stopped  at  a  sliop  at  Zell  to  buy  a  j'dgcr's  knife,  in 
place  of  the  one  he  had  left  behind  him  at  Monte  Carlo, 
in  the  card-sharper's  body.  He  stuck  it  ostentatiously  in 
the  leather  belt  he  had  bought  at  Botzen  to  complete  his 
costume ;  as  he  went  on  his  way,  he  fingered  it  ever  and 
anon  with  affectionate  familiarity.  Old  moods  came  back 
to  him ;  with  his  feather  in  his  hat  and  his  blade  by  his  side, 
he  felt  himself  once  more  a  true  Tyrolese  Robbler.  The 
thin  veneer  of  Regent  Street  had  dropped  off  as  if  by 
magic ;  when  they  wanted  to  arrest  him,  they  should  fight 
for  it  first;  who  would  take  him,  must  follow  him  like  a 
fleet-footed  chamois  up  the  rocks  behind  St.  Valentin. 
And  whoever  came  first  should  receive  that  good  knife, 
plump  so,  in  his  bosom,  or  plunge  his  own.  if  he  could,  into 
Franz's.  He  would  die  like  a  man  with  his  dagger  in  his 
hand.  No  rope  or  axe  should  ever  finish  the  life  of  a  free 
mountain  jdgerl 


388 


LINNET 


Thus  thinking  to  himself,  at  last  he  reached  the  inn. 
On  the  threshold,  Cousin  Fridolin  met  him,  distinctly  peni- 
tent. "  Andreas  knows  you're  here,  friend  Franz,"  he  said, 
with  a  reluctant  air.  "  I  didn't  quite  tell  him,  but  he 
guessed  it,  and  wormed  it  out  of  me.  He's  gone  for  a 
walk  just  now  with  Linnet — she's  grown  such  a  fine  lady. 
But  there,  I  forgot ;  you've  seen  her  in  London." 

"  Yes ;  I've  seen  her  in  Lo'^don,"  Franz  answered,  half- 
dreamily,  in  a  musing  undertone.  His  voice  was  as  the 
voice  of  a  condemned  criminal.  He  knew  he  was  doomed. 
He  knew  he  must  die.  It  might  be  to-day,  or  it  might 
be  to-morrow ;  but,  sooner  or  later,  he  felt  sure,  the  police 
would  be  after  him. 

He  stalked  moodily  into  the  inn,  and  dropped,  tired,  into 
a  chair  in  the  parlor  bar,  wit!,  his  legs  extended  straight  in 
front  of  him  in  a  despondent  attitude.  There  he  sat  and 
reflected.  Cousin  Fridolin's  voice  ran  on,  but  Franz  never 
heeded  it.  How  little  it  meant  to  him  now,  Cousin  Frido- 
lin's chatter  about  Linnet  and  Andreas !  What  did  he  care 
whether  they  were  rich  enough  to  buy  up  the  whole  parish, 
as  Fridolin  asserted,  and  have  money  left  over?  In  a  few 
short  weeks,  nothing  on  earth  would  make  any  difference. 
He  gazed  at  his  feet,  and  kniit  his  brows,  and  breathed  hard. 
Cousin  Fridolin  by  his  side  ran  on  unchecked.  Franz  an- 
swered him  nothing. 

By-and-by  the  latch  lifted — and  Andreas  Hausberger 
entered,  followed  close  by  Linnet. 

Andreas  gazed  at  his  man  angrily.  Th€i  he  turned 
round  to  his  wife.  "  Go  to  your  room,  Linnet,"  he  said,  in 
his  stern  tone  of  command.  "  I  must  speak  with  this  fel- 
low." 

Linnet,  cowed  and  trembling,  slank  off  without  a  word. 
Franz  could  see  she  was  pale,  and  had  suffered  greatly. 
Her  cheeks  had  fallen  in,  her  color  had  flown,  her  lips  were 
bloodless,  her  eye  had  lost  its  lustre.  Andreas  spoke  to 
her  in  an  ugly,  domineering  voice.  Franz  glared  at  him 
in  his  wrath.  Surely,  surely  it  was  high  time  old  scores 
were  wiped  out,  and  this  question  at  least  of  Linnet's  hap- 
piness §ettled." 

He  must  die  himself  soon;  of  that  he  felt  quite  sure; 
'tis  a  chance  which  a  Robbler  has  long  been  accustomed  to 
keep  vividly  before  him.     But  it  would  be  something  at 


ANDREAS  HAUSBERGER  PAYS 


389 


d  the  inn. 
nctly  peni- 
:,"  he  said, 
m,  but  he 
l^one  for  a 
I  iine  lady. 

ered,  half- 
vas  as  the 
IS  doomed, 
r  it  might 
the  pohce 

tired,  into 

straight  in 
he  sat  and 
ranz  never 
isin  Frido- 
did  he  care 
lole  parish, 
In  a  few 

difference, 
dthed  hard. 

Franz  an- 

[iausberger 

he  turned 

he  said,  in 

ith  this  fel- 

)ut  a  word, 
ed  greatly. 
tr  lips  were 
IS  spoke  to 
ired  at  him 
old  scores 
Innet's  hap- 
quite  sure; 
ustomed  to 
mething  at 


least  to  feel  he  didn't  lose  his  own  life  in  vain ;  that  he  was 
avenging  himself  on  Andreas,  and  freeing  Linnet.  If 
guillotined  he  r^.iist  be,  it  was  better  he  should  be  guil- 
lotined for  kil'ing  Andreas  Hausberger  on  a  woman's  be- 
half, than  for  stabbing  a  base  card-sharper  in  a  drunken 
brawl  at  Monte  Carlo. 

In  such  temper,  at  last,  did  Franz  Lindner  stand  up  and 
confront  with  mortal  hate  his  old  un forgiven  enemy.  An- 
dreas turned  to  him  with  a  little  sneer.  He  spoke  in  Eng- 
lish, lest  Cousin  Fridolin,  bustling  about  behind  the  bar 
at  his  business,  should  overhear  him  and  know  what  they 
were  saying.  "  Well,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked, 
with  a  contemptuous  curl  of  those  cynical  lips.  "  Devcrill 
sent  you,  I  suppose.  You've  come  all  this  way  to  spy  upon 
me  and  my  wife  as  his  flunkey." 

Franz  took  a  step  forward,  and  glared  at  him  fiercely 
from  under  his  eyebrows.  "  I  have  not,  liar,"  he  an- 
swered, his  fingers  twitching.  "  I  didn't  know  you  were 
here,  and  I  am  no  man's  flunkey." 

The  return  to  his  native  air  and  his  native  costume, 
coupled  with  the  gravity  and  danger  of  the  situation, 
seemed  to  have  raised  him  all  at  once  from  the  music-hall 
Icel  to  the  higher  and  nobler  plane  of  the  Tyrolese  moun- 
taineer. He  looked  and  moved  every  inch  a  freeman — nay, 
more,  he  confronted  Andreas  with  such  haughty  self-confi- 
dence that  his  enemy,  surprised,  drew  back  half  a  step  and 
surveyed  him  critically.  "  That's  a  very  strange  coinci- 
dence," Andreas  murmured,  after  a  short  pause.  "  It's 
curious  you  should  choose  the  exact  moment  to  come  when 
I  happened  to  be  at  St.  Valentin." 

Franz  scowled  at  him  yet  again.  "  You  can  take  it  how 
you  like,"  he  retorted,  in  German,  with  a  toss  of  the  head  in 
his  old  defiant  fashion.  "  If  you  choose  to  think  I  came 
here  to  follow  you  and  fight  you,  you're  at  liberty  to  think 
so.  I'm  ready,  if  you  are.  I've  an  old  cause  of  quarrel 
against  you,  recollect,  Andreas  Hausberger.  You  robbed 
me  by  fraud  long  ago  of  the  woman  I  loved ;  you  married 
her  by  force;  and  you've  made  her  life  unhappy.  If  I 
dogged  you,  which  I  haven't  done,  I'd  have  cause  enough 
and  to  spare.  You  remember  that  first  night  when  I  saw 
you  in  London,  in  Mrs.  Palmer's  box  at  the  Harmony 
Theater?    Well,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  presence  of  the 


FW 


390 


LINNET 


woman  I  loved — the  woman  you  stole  from  me — that  very 
night,  you  false  cur,  I'd  have  buried  my  knife  in  you." 

Andreas  drew  back  yet  another  pace.  He  was  taller  than 
Franz,  very  big  and  powerful.  With  a  contemptuous 
look,  he  measured  his  enemy  from  head  to  foot.  "  Why, 
you  couldn't,  you  fool,"  he  answered,  drawing  himself  up 
to  his  full  height.  "  1  never  yet  was  afraid  of  you  or  of 
any  man.  Many's  the  time  I've  turned  you,  drunk,  out  of 
this  very  room.  I'll  turn  you  out  again  if  you  dare  to 
speak  so  to  me !  " 

He  was  ^vearing  a  Tyrolese  hat,  just  like  Franz's  own ; 
he  had  bought  it  at  Jenbach  on  his  eastward  route,  to  re- 
turn, as  was  his  wont,  at  each  fresh  visit  home,  to  the 
simplicity  and  freedom  of  his  native  mountains.  Before 
Franz's  very  eyes  he  removed  it  from  his  head,  and,  with  a 
sneer  on  his  face,  turned  the  blackcock's  feather  Robbler- 
wise  as  a  challenge  of  defiance. 

No  Robbler  on  earth  could  overlook  such  a  wager  of 
battle.  Trembling  with  rage,  Franz  Lindner  spranj  forth, 
and  leaped  angrily  towards  him.  His  face  was  black  as 
night;  his  brow  was  like  thunder.  He  snatched  the  hat 
from  Andreas's  head  with  a  deft  flank  movement,  and  tore 
hastily  from  its  band  the  offending  emblem. 

"  Was  kost  die  Feder  ?  "  he  cried,  in  a  tone  of  angry 
contempt,  holding  it  up  triumphantly  before  its  owner's 
eyes.  All  the  west  was  blotted  out;  Franz  Lindner  was 
himself  again.  He  was  a  Robbler  once  more,  with  the 
hot  blood  of  his  Robblerhood  boiling  fierce  within  him. 

Quick  as  lightning,  the  familiar  answer  rang  out  in 
clear  tones,  "  Fiinf  Finger  und  ein  Griff ! "  Andreas 
brooked  no  such  insult.  "  Five  fingers  and  a  grip  " — he 
should  have  if  he  wanted  them. 

Before  Cousin  Fridolin  had  time  to  understand  what 
was  passing  before  his  eyes,  or  to  intervene  to  prevent  it — 
in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye.  with  extraordinary  rapidity,  the 
two  men  had  closed,  hands  and  arms  fast  locked,  and  were 
grappling  with  one  another  in  a  deadly  struggle.  Franz 
flung  himself  upon  his  foe  like  a  tiger  in  its  fury.  One 
moment,  his  knife  flashed  high  in  air.  Cousin  Fridolin 
rushed  forward,  and  strove  to  tear  them  asunder.  But, 
before  he  could  reach  them,  that  gleaming  blade  had  risen 
above  Franz's  head  and  flashed  down  again,  with  unerring 


ANDREAS  HAUSBERGER  PAYS 


391 


— that  very 
1  you." 
s  taller  than 
ntemptuous 
)t.  "Why, 
himself  up 
f  you  or  of 
unk,  out  of 
ou  dare  to 

anz's  own; 
Dute,  to  re- 
»me,  to  the 
IS.  Before 
and,  with  a 
ir  Robbler- 


aim,  on  Andreas  Hausberger's  bosom.  The  big  man  fell 
back  heavily,  both  hauds  pressed  to  his  heart,  where  black 
blood  was  oozing  out  in  long,  deep,  thick  gurgles. 

With  a  sudden  jerk,  Franz  flung  down  the  knife  he  had 
wrenched  from  the  wound.  It  stuck  quivering  by  its  point 
in  the  wooden  flooring.  Then  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  with  one  foot  pushed  forward.  He  clenched  his 
teeth,  and  bent  his  head  towards  the  dying  man's  body. 
"  I  always  meant  to  kill  you,"  he  cried,  in  his  gratified 
rage,  "  and,  thank  God  and  all  blessed  saints,  to-day  I've 
done  it." 

Cousin  Fridolin  jumped  forward,  and  bent  aghast  over 
the  body.  But  Franz  stood  still,  gazing  on  it  calmly.  At 
that  moment,  the  door  opened,  and  Linnet  entered. 


I  wager  of 
ran  J  forth, 
IS  black  as 
ed  the  hat 
it,  and  tore 


z  of  angry 
its  owner's 
indner  was 
;,  with  the 
hin  him. 
mg  out  in 
"  Andreas 
grip  " — he 

itand  what 
revent  it — 
ipidity,  the 
[,  and  were 
^le.  Franz 
Fury.  One 
in  Fridolin 
ider.  But, 
e  had  risen 
:h  unerring 


^wp 


CHAPTER  LI 


EXIT  FRANZ  LINDNER 


The  first  thing  Linnet  felt,  as  she  sprang  forward  to  her 
husband,  who  lay  dying  or  dead  on  the  floor  in  front  of 
her,  was  a  pervading  sense,  not  of  sorrow  or  of  affection, 
but  of  horror  at  a  great  crime  successfully  accomplished. 
"  You've  killed  him,  you've  killed  him !  "  she  cried  aloud  to 
Franz.  "  O  Fridolin,  quick,  quick,  run  and  fetch  the  Herr 
Vicar !  He's  breathing  still ;  I  can  hear  him  ever  breath- 
ing! Perhaps  there's  time  yet  for  him  to  receive  extreme 
unction." 

To  all  of  them,  the  sacraments  were  the  chief  things  to 
be  thought  of.  Fridolin  hurried  off  as  he  was  bid,  rousing 
the  house  as  he  went  with  a  loud  cry  of  alarm  to  come  and 
look  after  Linnet.  But  Linnet  herself  sat  on  the  ground 
all  aghast,  with  her  husband's  head  laid  heavy  in  her  lap, 
trying  to  staunch  his  wound  helplessly,  and  wringing  her 
hands  now  and  again  in  a  blind  agony  of  terror.  Mean- 
while, Franz  stood  by  as  if  wholly  unmoved,  regarding  the 
entire  scene  with  a  certain  sardonic  and  triumphant  self- 
satisfaction.  He  wouldn't  die  for  nothing,  as  things  had 
turned  out  now;  he  had  avenged  himself  at  least  on  his 
lifelong  enemy ! 

He  stood  there  many  minutes,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  growing  cooler  and  cooler  as  he  reflected  on  his 
deed,  and  more  and  more  glad  in  his  heart  to  think  he  had 
done  it.  So  Linnet  at  least  would  be  free!  it  was  ever 
something  to  have  rid  her  of  Andreas  Hausberger !  Men 
and  women  came  in,  and  lifted  Andreas  where  he  lay,  and 
stretched  him  on  the  bed  in  the  adjoining  room,  and 
stripped  off  part  of  his  clothes,  and  washed  the  wound,  and 
examined  it.  But  nobody  as  yet  thought  of  arresting 
Franz  or  molesting  him  in  any  way.  He  stood  there  still, 
the  one  wholly  unconcerned  and  careless  person  in  that 
excited  assembly.    His  rage  had  cooled  down  by  this,  and 

392 


EXIT  FRANZ  LINDNER 


393 


ward  to  her 
in  front  of 
of  affection, 
!complished. 
•ied  aloud  to 
tch  the  Herr 
ever  breath- 
iive  extreme 

ief  things  to 
bid,  rousing 
to  come  and 
I  the  ground 
y  in  her  lap, 
v^ringing  her 
ror.  Mean- 
egarding  the 
nphant  self- 
5  things  had 
least  on  his 

lands  in  his 
ected  on  his 
:hink  he  had 

it  was  ever 

;rger !    Men 

I  he  lay,  and 

room,   and 

wound,  and 
of  arresting 
>d  there  still, 
rson  in  that 

by  this,  and 


he  was  perfectly  collected.    He  was  waiting  for  the  village 
authorities  to  come  and  take  him  into  custody. 

The  priest  arrived  in  due  time,  with  the  holy  oil  aid  the 
viaticum;  but,  pronouncing  Andreas  dead,  refused  to  ad- 
minister the  sacraments.  The  doctor  came,  too,  a  little 
later  than  the  priest,  and  confirmed  the  Herr  Vicar's  un- 
favorable verdict.  Linnet  sat  and  wrung  her  hands  by  the 
bedside  where  he  lay,  more  at  the  suddenness  of  the  event, 
and  the  unexpected  horror  of  it,  than  from  any  real  sense 
of  affection  or  bereavement.  The  little  crowd  in  the  room 
gathered  in  small  knots  and  whispered  low  arourd  Franz. 
But  Franz  stood  coolly  looking  on,  without  making  an  at- 
tempt to  escape,  less  interested  in  what  had  occurred  than 
anyone  else  in  the  village.  What  was  one  murder  more  to 
the  man  who  was  wanted  from  Monte  Carlo  to  St.  Val- 
entin ? 

By-and-by,  a  fresh  commotion  arose  outside  the  inn. 
The  crowd  in  the  room  divided,  and  buzzed  eagerly.  The 
Herr  Landrath,  they  said,  had  come  to  arrest  the  murderer. 
Franz  looked  around  him  defiantly,  as  they  whispered  and 
stared  at  him.  But  no  man  laid  a  hand  on  him.  No  man 
dared  to  touch  him.  The  Landrath  himself  hesitated  to 
enter  the  place  where  the  dead  man  lay,  and  arrest  the 
murderer,  red-handed,  in  presence  of  the  priest,  the  corpse, 
the  widow.  "Is  Franz  Lindner  in  there  ? "  he  asked 
solemnly  from  the  doorway. 

Anc*  Franz  answered  in  a  firm  and  unshaken  voice,  "  He 
is  so.  ilerr  Kaiserh'ch-Koniglich  Commissary." 

"  Come  out,"  the  official  said.  And  with  a  bold  and 
haughty  tread  Franz  Lindner  came  out  to  him. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Emperor-Xing,  I  arrest  you,  Franz 
Lindner,  for  the  wilful  murder  of  Andreas  Hausberger  in 
this  village,"  the  Commissary  said  sternly,  laying  his  hand 
on  his  prisoner's  shoulder. 

Franz  laughed  a  discordant  laugh.  "  And,  in  the  name 
of  the  Emperor-King,  you  shall  run  for  it,  by  Our  Blessed 
Frau,"  he  answered,  contemptuously.  He  shook  the  hand 
from  his  shoulder  with  an  easy  jerk,  and  pushed  back  the 
Landrath,  who  was  a  heavy  man  of  more  than  middle-age, 
with  those  two  stout  arms  of  his.  "  Follow  and  catch 
me,  who  can,"  he  cried,  laughing  loud  once  more,  "  Kaiser- 
lich-Koniglich  Commissary !  "    And  before  they  all  knew 


'm^mf;f^m 


394 


LINNET 


what  was  happening  under  their  eyes,  with  a  bound  like 
a  wild  beast  Franz  had  darted  to  the  door,  pushed  his  way 
through  the  little  group  that  obstructed  the  threshold,  hit 
out  right  and  left  with  elbows  and  fists  against  all  who 
strove  to  stop  him,  tripped  up  the  first  man  who  tried  to 
seize  him  by  the  coat,  and  sprung  by  the  well-known  path 
up  the  free  mountains  behind  them. 

"  Follow  him !  "  the  Commissary  gasped  out,  collecting 
his  breath,  and  pulling  himself  together  again  after  the 
unexpected  shaking.  "  In  the  law's  name  and  the  Em- 
peror-King's, all  2^ood  subjects,  follow  him !  " 

Three  or  four  of  the  younger  men,  thus  adjured  and 
called  on  personally  to  i.rrest  the  criminal,  darted  after  him 
at  full  speed  up  the  slope  of  the  mountain.  But  they  fol- 
lowed just  at  first  with  somewhat  half-hearted  zeal;  for 
why  should  they  wish  thus  to  seal  the  fate  of  an  old  friend 
and  comrade?  As  they  advanced,  Franz  waved  his  hat 
derisively  a  hundred  yards  in  front  of  them.  In  his  old 
jdger  days,  not  Fridolin  Telser  himself  was  so  swift  to 
follow  the  clambering  chamois  among  the  peaks  and  pin- 
nacles above  the  pine-clad  forest.  All  those  years  of  in- 
dulgence in  crowded  cities  had  weakened  his  bodily  vigor 
and  relaxed  his  muscles;  but  in  the  soul  he  felt  himself 
still  once  more  as  of  old  the  free  mountain  hunter.  "  Come 
on ! "  he  shouted  aloud,  with  a  wild  jodel  of  challenge. 
"  Come,  and  catch  me  if  you  can.  Who  comes  first,  gets 
my  fist  in  his  face  and  knife  in  his  heart.  Arrest 
me  if  you  dare.  If  you  try  it,  you  may  sup  to-night  in 
purgatory,  at  a  t^t)  side  by  side  with  Andreas  Haus- 
berger ! " 

He  fled  up  the  mountain  with  incredible  speed  for  a 
person  so  out  of  training;  but  his  native  air  braced  him, 
and  the  double  excitement  of  the  last  few  days  seemed  to 
stimulate  his  nerves  and  limbs  to  extraordinary  energy.  A 
man  runs  his  best  when  he  runs  for  his  life.  On  and  on 
Franz  mounted,  past  the  pine-wood  and  the  boulder  where 
Linnet  sat  long  ago  with  Will  Deverill,  and  up  to  the  crags 
beyond,  where  blank  patches  of  snow  still  lurked  here  and 
there  in  the  sunless  crevices.  Every  now  and  then  he 
looked  back  to  see  how  far  he  had  distanced  his  pursuers. 
He  gained  at  each  step.  He  had  one  great  advantage.  lie 
was  flying  for  dear  life,  whither  or  why  he  knew  not ;  they 


EXIT  FRANZ  LINDNER 


395 


a  bound  like 
shed  his  way 
hreshold,  hit 
linst  all  who 
who  tried  to 
[-known  path 

ut,  collecting 
ain  after  the 
ind  the  Em- 
adjured  and 
ted  after  him 
But  they  fel- 
ted zeal;  for 
an  old  friend 
aved  his  hat 
.  In  his  old 
5  so  swift  to 
;aks  and  pin- 
years  of  in- 
bodily  vigor 
felt  himself 
Iter.  "  Come 
of  challenge, 
les  first,  gets 
eart.  Arrest 
p  to-night  in 
idreas  Haus- 

speed  for  a 
braced  him, 
lys  seemed  to 
ry  energy.  A 
On  and  on 
loulder  where 
3  to  the  crags 
ked  here  and 
and  then  he 
his  pursuers, 
vantage.  He 
lew  not ;  they 


were  following  unwillingly,  in  the  name  of  the  law,  the 
footsteps  of  an  old  friend  and  boon  companion. 

Above,  all  was  snow.  In  those  northward  valleys 
winter  loiters  late,  and  spring  comes  but  tardily.  Once 
among  the  firn,  Franz  could  give  them  the  slip,  he  felt  sure ; 
he  could  lurk  behind  rocks,  or  hide  among  the  klamms, 
and  let  the  baffled  pursuers  pass  by  unnoticing.  But  no — 
but  no — ach,  Gott,  the  footprints !  With  a  sudden  revul- 
sion he  realized  his  error.  Those  years  in  milder  climates 
had  made  him  forget  for  a  moment  the  hopelessness  of  es- 
caping if  he  once  reached  the  snow-line.  Appalled  and  dis- 
mayed, he  trirned  and  hesitated.  Then  he  dashed  ofif  at  an 
angle,  horizontally  along  the  hill,  at  the  same  general  level, 
so  as  to  avoid  the  snow-covered  glaciers.  That  one  false 
move  lost  him.  His  pursuers,  seeing  him  double,  headed 
forward  diagonally  across  the  third  side  of  the  triangle, 
and  gained  on  him  visibly.  Franz  was  blown  and  pant- 
ing. His  heart  throbbed  hard ;  he  had  overtaxed  it  sadly 
in  that  first  wild  burst  up  the  ramping  hillside.  Again  he 
paused,  and  looked  back.  The  hopelessness  and  futility  of 
the  whole  thing  broke  in  upon  him.  If  he  ran  all  day  and 
all  night  as  well — if  he  distanced  that  little  body  of  amateur 
pursuers  for  the  moment — what  would  it  profit  him  in  the 
end?  Could  he  evade  arrest  at  last?  could  he  escape  the 
clutches  of  the  Austrian  law,  shake  off  the  strong  hand 
of  the  Kaiserlich-Koniglich  government? 

All  at  once,  seized  with  a  sudden  little  access  of  despair, 
he  sat  down  on  the  hillside,  and  laughed  aloud  audibly. 
"  Ha,  ha,  ha,"  he  cried  hoarsely,  at  the  very  top  of  his  voice, 
as  his  antagonists  drew  nearer,  "  So  you  think  you'll  catch 
me !  You  think  you'll  get  well  paid !  You  want  to  earn 
a  reward  on  me !  Well,  look  here,  Ludwig  Dangl,"  and  he 
shouted  through  his  bent  hand  to  the  foremost  of  his  pur- 
suers, "  there's  ten  thousand  florins  set  on  my  head  already 
for  stabbing  a  man  dead  in  an  hotel  at  Monte  Carlo — and 
it's  yours  ...  if  you  catch  me !  Come  on,  friend,  and 
earn  it ! " 

He  had  grown  reckless  now.  The  dare-devil  spirit  of 
the  man  who  knows  well  he  has  forfeited  his  life  and  has 
no  chance  of  escape  left,  had  wholly  taken  hold  of  him. 
He  sat  there,  by  the  Kamin,  waiting  till  the  pursuers  were 
almost  upon  him.    "  Ten  thousand  florins !  "  he  shouted 


p^Wf 


396 


LINNET 


aloud  once  more,  waving  his  hat  above  his  head,  as  he 
jumped  up  when  they  neared  him.  "  Ten  thousand  florins 
is  a  nice  round  sum!  Will  you  have  it,  Ludwig  Dangl? 
will  you  have  it,  Karl  Furst  ?  will  you  have  it,  Fritz  Mair- 
hofer?" 

His  very  recklessness  appalled  them.  The  men  thought 
he  must  be  mad.  They  paused,  and  stared  hard  at  him. 
There  were  only  three  now.  Neither  liked  to  advance  first. 
Franz  waved  his  hat  frantically,  and  beckoned  them  on 
towards  the  weathered  crags  that  overlook  St.  Valentin. 
Great  rocks  there  rose  sheer  over  fissurred  gullies.  The 
men  hardly  ventured  to  follow  him  up  to  those  frowning 
heights.  Heaven  knows  what  a  madman,  in  such  a  mood 
as  that,  may  do  or  dare  among  the  cleft  troughs  and 
gorges!  They  halted, — debated, — then  came  on  towards 
him,  abreast,  more  slowly,  step  by  step,  in  a  little  formed 
body.  But  Franz,  now  restored  by  a  momentary  pause, 
leaped  upward  like  a  chamois  over  the  steep  path  in  front 
of  him.  The  fresh  mountain  air  seemed  to  nerve  and  in- 
vigorate him.  On,  on,  he  bounded  swift  over  the  jagged 
steps  in  the  rock,  till  he  poised  himself  at  last  like  a 
mountain  goat  on  the  very  edge  of  the  precipice.  It  was  a 
sheer  cliff  that  looked  down  on  a  great  snowdrift  in  a 
ravine  two  hundred  feet  beneath  him.  The  Robbler  in- 
stinct in  Franz's  blood  had  now  gained  complete  mastery. 
He  waved  his  hat  again,  with  its  feather  turned  insultingly. 
"  Ten  thousand  florins !  "  he  cried  once  more,  in  his  loudest 
voice.  "  Ten  thousand  florins !  Who  wants  them  ?  Who'll 
earn  them  ?  " 

He  laughed  aloud  in  their  faces.  The  three  men  drew  on 
cautiously.  Franz  waited  till  they  came  up.  Then  Lud- 
wig Dangl,  mustering  up  courage  to  take  the  first  step, 
stood  forward  and  laid  hands  on  him.  Straightway  Franz 
seized  his  assailant  round  the  body  with  a  wrestler's  grip. 
Ludwig  tried  to  disengage  himself:  but  'twas  a  narrow 
and  dangerous  spot  for  wrestling.  With  a  sudden  wrench, 
Franz  lifted  him  from  the  ground.  Holding  h^'m  grasped 
in  his  arms,  he  looked  over  the  edge  of  the  precipice. 
Next  instant,  he  had  leaped,  with  Ludwig  Dangl  in  his 
embrace.  One  loud  cry  burst  at  once  from  both  their 
straining  throats.  A  cry  of  wild  triumph ;  a  cry  of  fierce 
despair.    Then  all  was  silence. 


EXIT  FRANZ  LINDNER 


397 


head,  as  he 
(usand  florins 
dwig  Dangl? 
,  Fritz  Mair- 

men  thought 
hard  at  him. 
advance  first, 
ned  them  on 
St.  Valentin, 
g^ullies.  The 
3se  frowning 
such  a  mood 
troughs  and 
;  on  towards 
little  formed 
mtary  pause, 
path  in  front 
lerve  and  in- 
;r  the  jagged 
t  last  like  a 
ce.  It  was  a 
owdrift  in  a 
Robbler  in- 
ilete  mastery, 
d  insultingly, 
in  his  loudest 
lem?  Who'll 


The  other  two  men,  looking  awestruck  and  horrified 
over  the  edge  of  the  crag,  saw  them  fall  two  hundred  feet 
sheer  into  the  soft  snow  beneath.  It  received  them  gently. 
Not  a  sign  marked  the  spot  where  the  two  bodies  sank  in. 
The  soft  snow  closed  over  them.  But  they  must  have  been 
dead  many  seconds  before  they  reached  the  bottom. 


men  drew  on 
Then  Lud- 
he  first  step, 
htway  Franz 
estler's  grip, 
as  a  narrow 
Iden  wrench, 
h'm  grasped 
he  precipice. 
Dangl  in  his 
n  both  their 
cry  of  fierce 


CHAPTER  LII 


■  i 


A    CONFESSION    OF    FAITH 

It  was  a  terrible  time  for  Linnet,  those  few  days  at  the  inn, 
while  she  waited  to  bury  her  murdered  husband.  She  felt 
so  lonely,  here  among  her  own  people ;  her  isolation  came 
out  even  more  vividly  than  she  could  have  expected;  she 
had  outgrown  them,  that  was  the  fact,  and  they  could  no 
longer  sympathize  with  her.  Their  very  deference  and  re- 
spect chilled  her  heart  to  the  core  in  that  appalling  season 
of  solitary  wretchedness :  they  regarded  her  just  in  the 
light  of  the  great  lady  from  London,  too  grand  and  too 
fine  for  them  to  venture  upon  comforting  her.  So  Linnet 
was  forced  to  have  out  her  dark  hour  by  herself,  and  be 
content  for  the  rest  with  the  respectful  silence  of  her  poor 
fellow-country-people. 

The  first  night,  In  particular,  was  a  very  painful  trial  to 
her.  By  evening,  they  had  brought  back  Franz's  body 
from  the  snowdrift ;  and  now  it  lay  with  Ludw^"g  Dangl 
beside  her  dead  husband's  in  the  dancing-hall  that  stood 
just  below  the  very  room  where  Linnet  had  to  spend  the 
first  night  of  her  widowhood.  Though  she  kept  the  candle 
burning,  and  the  crucifix  by  her  side,  the  awful  sense  of 
solitude  through  the  long  slow  hours,  with  those  three 
hostile  corpses  lying  side  by  side  in  the  hall  beneath  her, 
made  her  shudder  with  affright  each  time  she  woke  with  a 
start  from  a  snatch  of  hurried  sleep,  much  disturbed  by 
hateful  dreams,  to  the  reality  of  her  still  more  hateful 
position. 

Early  next  morning,  however,  a  messenger  arrived  post- 
haste from  Zell,  with  a  telegram  directed  to  Frau  Haus- 
berger,  St.  Valentin.  Linnet  tore  it  open  mechanically, 
half  dreading  some  fresh  surprise.  As  she  read  it,  she 
drew  a  deep  breath.  Oh,  that  dear,  dear  Rue !  This  was 
quite  too  good  of  her.    "  Have  heard  of  your  trouble,  and 

398 


A  CONFESSION  OF  FAITH 


399 


lys  at  the  inn, 
ind.  She  felt 
solation  came 
expected;  she 
;hey  could  no 
rence  and  re- 
)allin'T  season 
r  just  in  the 
rand  and  too 
r.  So  Linnet 
srself,  and  be 
e  of  her  poor 

ainful  trial  to 
Franz's  body 
,udw^"g  Dangl 
all  that  stood 

to  spend  the 
ept  the  candle 
wful  sense  of 
h  those  three 
1  beneath  her, 
e  woke  with  a 

disturbed  by 
more  hateful 

•  arrived  post- 
)  Frau  Haus- 
mechanically, 
e  read  it,  she 
le!  This  was 
ir  trouble,  and 


sympathize  with  you  deeply.    Am  on  my  way  to  join  you. 
Shall  reach  St.  Valentin  to-morrow  evening." 

It  was  a  measure  to  Linnet  of  how  English  she  had  be- 
come, that,  as  she  stood  on  the  platform  at  Jenbach  next 
day,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Rue's  train  from  Innsbruck, 
she  felt  as  though  she  were  expecting  the  advent  of  some 
familiar  home-friend,  coming  to  cheer  her  solitude  in  a 
land  of  strangers.  When  at  last  the  train  drew  up.  Rue 
leapt  from  the  carriage  into  her  rival's  arms,  and  caressed 
her  tenderly.  Linnet  looked  sweet  in  her  simple  dark 
dress,  the  plainest  she  possessed,  for  she  hadn't  yet  had 
time  to  get  her  mourning  ready.  How  did  you  hear  of  it 
all,  you  dear  kind  Rue?"  she  inquired,  half-hysterically, 
clasping  her  new  friend  to  her  bosom  in  a  sudden  outburst 
of  sated  sympathy.  "  It  couldn't  surely  have  got  so  soon 
into  the  English  papers." 

"  No,  dear,"  Rue  answered,  in  her  tenderest  tone,  laying 
one  soft  hand  soothingly  on  the  pale  cheek  as  she  answered. 
"  I'd  written  to  St.  Valentin  beforehand,  to  some  one 
whose  address  Will  Deverill  gave  me,  asking  for  news  of 
you  every  day,  and  enclosing  money;  and  he  telegraphed 
to  me  at  once  as  soon  as  all  this  happened.  His  name's 
Fridolin  Telser,  and  Will  says  he  is  a  cousin  of  yours.  So, 
of  course,  as  soon  as  I  heard,  I  felt  I  must  come  out,  post 
haste,  to  join  you;  for  I  knew,  Linnet,  how  lonely  you'd 
be — and  how  much  in  need  of  a  woman's  sympathy." 

Linnet  answered  nothing.  That  **  of  course  "  was  too 
much  for  her.  She  burst  into  tears  instead,  and  sobbed 
her  full  heart  out  contentedly  on  Rue's  friendly  shoulder. 
They  drove  back  to  St.  Valentin  hand-in-hand  together. 
That  night,  Rue  slept  with  her,  in  a  little  room  in  the 
village;  and  though  they  talked  for  hours  with  one  an- 
other, and  only  dozed  at  intervals,  Linnet  rose  next  morn- 
ing fresher  and  stronger  by  far  than  she  had  felt  at  any 
time  since  the  day  of  the  murder. 

Rue  stopped  on  with  her  all  that  week,  till  Andreas  was 
buried,  and  she  could  leave  St.  Valentin.  Linnet  shrank 
now  from  taking  anything  that  had  ever  been  his.  The 
Wirthshaus  was  to  be  sold :  Cousin  Fridolin  bought  it  at 
a  low  price  with  his  hoarded  savings,  and  the  proceeds 
were  to  be  devoted  to  a  new  school  for  the  village.  The 
Herr  Vicar,  too,  was  richer  by  many  masses  for  the  repose 


^f^sppni 


400 


LINNET 


of  the  unworthy  soul  which  Linnet  felt  sure  had  now  much 
need  of  his  orisons.  Nor  were  even  Franz  Lindner  and 
Ludwig  Dangl  forgotten :  the  shrine  on  the  hill-top,  by  the 
Chamois  Rocks,  marking  the  spot  whence  they  took  their 
fatal  leap,  was  erected,  the  guides  will  tell  you,  ''  by  the 
famous  singer,  Casalmonte,  who  came  originally  from  this 
village." 

Rue  went  back  with  her  friend  to  London,  stopping  a 
week  or  two  by  the  way  at  quiet  country  spots  in  the 
Bavarian  Highlands,  on  the  Rhine,  and  in  Belgium. 
'Twas  early  June  when  they  reached  tc "n.  Rue  wouldn't 
hear  of  Linnet's  returning  to  her  old  house  in  St.  John's 
Wood,  where  everything  would  remind  her  of  that  hateful 
past:  she  Insisted  that  her  "  new  sister,"  as  she  called  her, 
must  share  for  the  present  her  home  in  Hans  Place,  till 
other  arrangements  could  be  made  for  her.  "  Besides," 
she  added,  with  a  little  smile,  full  of  deeper  import,  "  it'll 
save  scandal,  you  know.  You  mustn't  live  alone.  It's 
best  you  should  stop  in  some  other  woman's  house,  till 
vou've  arrived  at  some  fixed  understanding  as  to  your 
future." 

It  was  in  Rue's  drawing-room,  accordingly,  a  few  vveeks 
later,  that  Linnet  for  the  first  time  saw  Will  Deverill  once 
more  after  all  that  had  happened.  With  the  same  gene:  3  as 
self-restraint  he  had  always  shown  whenever  Linnet's 
reputation  was  concerned,  Will  had  denied  himself  for 
many  days  the  pleasure  of  calling  upon  her.  When  at 
last  he  came.  Linnet  made  up  her  mind  beforehand  she 
should  receive  him  with  becoming  calmness  and  dignity. 
But  the  moment  Will  entered  the  room,  and  took  her  two 
hands  in  his,  and  looked  deep  into  her  dark  eyes,  and  stood 
there  silent,  thrilling  through  from  head  to  foot  at  sight 
of  her,  yet  rejoicmg  in  heart  at  his  one  love  recovered — 
why,  as' for  Linnet,  she  just  looked  up  at  him,  and  drew 
short  gasps  of  breath,  and  held  his  hands  tight  in  her  own, 
and  then  with  a  sweet  half -unconscious  self-surrender  let 
herself  fall  slowly,  slowly  upon  his  bosom.  There  he 
allowed  her  to  lie  long  without  speaking  one  word  to  her. 
What  need  of  words  between  those  two  who  understood 
one  another  instinctively?  what  chance  of  concealing  the 
hope  and  joy  each  felt,  and  knew  and  communicated,  un- 


A  CONFESSION  OF  FAITH 


401 


I  now  much 
^indner  and 
-top,  by  the 
/  took  their 
m,  "  by  the 
[y  from  this 

stopping  a 
ipots  in  the 
n  Belgium, 
ue  wouldn't 
1  St.  John's 
that  hateful 
e  called  her, 
IS  Place,  till 

"  Besides," 
nport,  "  it'll 
alone.  It's 
s  house,  till 

as  to  your 

a  few  weeks 
)everill  once 
ne  gene.  3 us 
-^er  Linnet's 
himself  for 

When  at 
Drehand  she 
md  dignity. 
00k  her  two 
s,  and  stood 
oot  at  sight 
recovered — 
1,  and  drew 
in  her  own, 
urrender  let 

There  he 
vord  to  her. 
understood 
icealing  the 
nicated,  un- 


spoken, by  mere  contact  to  the  other  ?  For  touch  is  to  love 
the  most  eloquent  of  the  senses. 

At  last  they  found  words,  and  talked  long  and  eagerly. 
There  was  no  question  between  them  now  in  what  relation 
they  must  henceforth  stand  to  one  another,  it  was  mere 
details  of  time,  and  place,  and  propriety — the  when  and 
hov/  and  where — that  interested  them  at  present.  "  But 
you  can  get  a  dispensation  for  me  ?  "  Linnet  asked,  nestling 
close  to  him. 

Will  smiled  a  gentle  smile.  "  There's  little  need  of  dis- 
pensation, for  you  and  me,  my  darling,"  he  said,  holding 
her  hand  tenderly.  "  You  would  have  given  me  yourself 
once,  in  spite  of  the  Church  and  the  world :  you  can  surely 
give  me  yourself  now  without  a  qualm  of  conscience,  when 
the  Church  and  the  world  will  both  smile  approval.  To 
me.  Linnet,  the  whole  sanctity  of  a  union  between  us  lies 
infinitely  deeper  than  any  man's  sanction,  be  he  priest  or 
Pope  or  king  or  lawgiver.  As  I  said  to  you,  once  before, 
you  are  mine,  and  I  an  yours,  not  by  any  artificial  bond, 
but  by  the  voice  of  our  hearts,  which  is  the  voice  of  nature 
and  of  God  within  us :  and  whom  God  hath  joined  together, 
man  cannot  join  firmer,  nor  yet  put  asunder.  But  if  it 
pleases  you  to  ask  some  priest's  leave  for  the  union  no 
priest  en  earth  can  possibly  make  sacreder — yes;  set  your 
heart  at  rest  about  that,  darling: — I've  seen  the  Arch- 
bishop already,  and  he's  promised  to  get  you  the  regular 
papal  dispensation." 

Linnet  leant  back,  and  gazed  up  at  him.  Her  gaz_  was 
half  fear,  half  frank  admiration.  "  Dearest  Will,"  she  said, 
pleadingly,  in  her  pretty  foreign  English,  "  you're  a  man, 
I'm  a  woman,  and  therefore  illogical:  forgive  me.  I've 
been  brought  up  to  think  one  way,  which  I  know  is  a 
dreadful  way:  my  own  heart  tells  me  how  foolish  and 
cruel  and  wicked  it  is  to  think  so;  and  yet — may  the 
Blessed  Madonna  and  all  holy  saints  forgive  me  for  saying 
it — I  should  be  afraid  of  their  anger  and  the  eternal  hell 
if  I  dared  to  disbelieve  in  what  seems  so  cruel.  You  speak 
to  me  of  another  way,  which  my  own  heart  tells  me  is 
just  and  pure  and  good  and  beautiful — which  my  head 
approves  as  common-sense  and  sound  reasoning;  and  yet 
— may  the  Blessed  Madonna  forgive  me  again — though  I 


402 


LINNET 


•■ ; 


try  hard  to  believe  it,  the  teachings  of  my  childhood  rise 
up  at  every  step  and  prevent  my  accepting  it.  I  can't  un- 
derstand this  mystery  of  open  war  between  God  and  our 
hearts — between  God,  who  made  them,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  what  is  best,  not  what  is  worst,  within  them,  on  the 
other.  1  pray  for  light,  but  no  light  comes.  Why  should 
God's  law  fight  so  hard  against  God's  instincts  in  our  souls 
— against  all  that  we  feel  to  be  purest,  noblest,  truest,  best 
in  our  nature  ?  " 

"  Not  God's  law,"  Will  said  gently,  smc^thing  her  hand 
with  his  own,  "  but  the  priests'.  Linnet,  the  priests', — which 
is  something  quite  different.  God's  law-  is  never  some  pre- 
cept beyond  and  outside  us :  it  is  the  law  of  our  own  being, 
the  law  of  our  own  hearts,  the  law  of  the  native  instincts 
and  impulses  that  stir  us.  Your  marriage  with  Andreas, 
were  it  twenty  times  blessed  by  priest  or  by  Pope,  was  from 
the  very  first  moment  an  unholy  and  unnatural  one.  It  was 
a  sin  against  purity  and  your  own  body ;  it  was  a  legalized 
lie,  a  life-long  adultery.  You  felt  its  shame  yourself,  and 
shrank  from  the  man  physically.  Your  heart  was  not  his, 
so  how  could  your  body  be  ?  Even  the  laws  of  men  would 
have  allowed  you  to  leave  him  and  come  home  to  me, 
whose  complement  and  mate  you  are  by  nature,  after  his 
treatment  of  you  that  day,  and  your  discovery  of  his  letter 
to  Philippina.  But  the  laws  of  your  Church,  which  are  not 
the  laws  of  men  but  the  laws  of  priests — and  therefore 
worse  and  more  unnatural  than  even  the  common  laws  of 
mankind — forbade  you  to  take  advantage  of  the  loophole 
of  escape  which  divorce  would  permit  you  from  that  wicked 
union  your  priests  had  imposed  upon  you.  The  Church 
or  the  law  that  bids  you  live  with  a  man  you  loathe  and 
despise  that  Church  or  law  dishonors  your  own  nature; 
that  Church  and  that  law  is  not  of  God,  nor  even  of  man, 
but  of  priests  and  the  devil.  The  Church  or  the  law  that 
forbids  you  to  live  with  the  man  your  own  heart  dictates 
and  points  out  to  you,  is  equally  of  the  devil.  And  see 
how  it  proves  itself  so!  It  needed  the  intervention  of 
Franz  Lindner's  knife  to  free  you  from  your  false  inion 
with  Andreas  Hausberger !  Can  that  Church  and  that  law 
be  right  or  sound  which  make  a  murder  the  one  loophole 
by  which  a  soul  can  free  itself  from  the  unholy  bond  they 
would  jrnwillingly  impose  upon  it?    Your  own  heart  told 


A  CONFESSION  OF  FAITH 


403 


5od  rise 
an't  un- 
and  our 
le  hand, 
,  on  the 
J  should 
ur  souls 
est,  best 

ler  hand 
— which 
Dme  pre- 
n  being, 
instincts 
\ndreas, 
vas  from 
;.  It  was 
legalized 
self,  and 
>  not  his, 
en  would 
t  to  me, 
after  his 
his  letter 
h  are  not 
therefore 
I  laws  of 
loophole 
It  wicked 
!  Church 
athe  and 

nature ; 

of  man, 

law  that 
:  dictates 

And  see 
mtion  of 
Ise  mion 
I  that  law 

loophole 
)ond  they 
leart  told 


you  it  was  wrong  and  dishonoring  to  live  with  Andreas; 
your  own  heart  shrank  from  his  loveless  embraces ;  your 
own  heart  showed  you  it  was  right  to  leave  him,  and  fly 
away  to  the  man  you  loved,  the  man  that  loved  you.  Will 
you  believe  that  God's  law  is  worse  than  your  own  heart? 
Will  you  think  there's  something  divine  in  an  institution 
of  men  which  compels  you  to  degrade  and  dishonor  your 
own  body,  to  sin  so  cruelly  against  your  own  pure  in- 
stincts? Nothing  can  be  wickeder,  I  say,  than  for  a  wo- 
man to  sell  herself  or  to  yield  herself  in  any  way  to  a  man 
she  loathes.  No  Church  and  no  law  can  make  right  of 
that  wrong:  it's  degrading  and  debasing  to  her  moral 
nature.  The  moment  a  woman  feels  she  gives  herself 
up  against  her  own  free  will  and  the  instincts  of  her  own 
heart  she  is  living  in  sin — and  you  know  it,  Linnet — 
though  all  the  priests  and  all  the  Popes  on  earth  should 
stretch  robed  arms  and  hands  to  bless  and  absolve  her." 

He  spoke  with  fierce  conviction.  Linnet  nestled  against 
his  breast :  his  words  overcame  her.  "  I  know  it.  Will,  I 
know  it,"  she  exclaimed,  half-hysterically.  "  My  heart 
told  me  so  always — but  I  couldn't  believe  it.  I  can't  be- 
lieve it  now, — though  I  know  you're  right  when  I  hear 
you  speak  so.  Perhaps,  some  day,  when  I've  lived  with 
you  long  enough,  I  shall  come  to  think  and  feel  as  you 
do.  .  .  .  But  for  the  present,  my  darling,  I'm  so  glad, 
oh,  so  glad, — don't  laugh  at  me  for  saying  it — that  you've 
got  a  dispensation." 


THE   END 


